


Time Listens

by grloul



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Archaeology, Bottom Eren, Bottom Levi, Bottom Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Depression, F/F, F/M, First Time, Language Barrier, M/M, Modern AU, Older!Eren, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reincarnation, Reincarnation AU, Slow Build, Top Eren, Top Levi, Top!Levi, archaeologist!eren, bottom!Eren, bottom!levi, ereri, levi has been frozen for hundreds of years, there will be some main characters dying, top!Eren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-03 07:00:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4091446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grloul/pseuds/grloul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>eren jaeger is an archaeologist fresh out of college and working at the dig of his dreams. when two huge crystals with people inside are discovered in a cavern beneath a remnant of wall, it's no wonder he feels like he's made it big-time. however, drilling into the crystals leads to the near decimation of his dig team and the startling surprise that the man at the center isn't a corpse. the entire world is put on edge when the fact that the man is alive is revealed and the possibility of having questions about the long-lost history finally answered. while eren is just as eager as the rest, he finds he's learning more than he's bargained for when the man not only knows him, but recognizes the rest of eren's friends. as the mysterious levi is nursed back to health from his centuries-long sleep, eren realizes that the feelings he has for him are more than just an archaeologist and his precious artifact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. WAIT FOREVER

**Author's Note:**

> this is an idea i've had for a long time now, finally decided to get it going! i always appreciate comments/discussions about the story and my writing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > " _It's interesting to see that people had so much clutter even thousands of years ago. The only way to get rid of it all was to bury it, and then some archaeologist went and dug it all up._ " — **Karl Pilkington**.

Summer was a brutal season. It had some good qualities, he supposed—school was out, there were crop tops and belly button piercings, swimming in public pools, tanning—but the heat was a _disaster_. He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t believe a word of anyone who said they honestly _liked_ summer with all the heat and the heatwaves and those times where the air conditioner thought it was so funny to break down just when he needed it—

Summer was _brutal_.

It was even more brutal when he had to be _outside_ in it—and he wasn’t swimming or pressing his crotch against the ever-cool and gentle vibrations of the electric fan. 

There was a possibility that he had envisioned they might consider awnings or little umbrella hats—maybe even a pair of shades that didn’t fall down his nose when he sweat too much.

 _Nope_.

Just the thrum of the sun’s heat _beating down_ on his back. _Merciless_. He wanted to punch the sun in what he imagined some stupid and damn goofy face that was grinning down at him.

Khakis weren't made for summer—if they were really so summer-friendly for this kind of work, they’d make them thinner—or _something_. Maybe they were a fashion disaster because the fabric was so damn thick he felt like he was waddling with a tent for pants.

It wasn’t even a tent in the fun kind of way—when Jean showed him a dirty story as a joke where the writer describes the guy’s boner as pitching some kind of tent in the pants—he didn’t remember any time when _his own_ dick did that. Awkward boners just meant a really screwy lump coming from his jeans. He didn’t think his dick was strong enough to pitch a tent. Maybe it was drinking more milk or weird fruits—

“Hey— _kid_.”

He raised his eyes slowly—a pair of boots that he was pretty sure were rain-boots, not work-boots, khakis, a khaki jacket over a polo, and—

 _Oluo_.

“—you’ve been starin’ at that damn pot for five minutes. You going dig it up or _what_?”

Eren blinked—then looked back down again.

 _Right_. He was in the middle of a dig.

That’s why he was outside in the brutal heat of summer.

“Uhm— _yeah_ , sorry—”

“Geez. Fucking brat. Y’know, if _Hange_ saw you slacking off—”

He was pretty sure Oluo had more to say—he was always running his mouth like that because he was a veteran digger, especially if Petra wasn’t around—but the fact that he _bit_ his tongue interrupted it. Eren grimaced at the wet sound it made.

Oluo did that a lot, too. Petra said it was because his tongue was stretched out from him wagging it around all the time. Eren didn't know how he had managed to keep a straight face.

“Get _back_ here, Oluo! You haven’t finished helping me with this skeleton!” was Petra’s loud yell from across the site—signaling Oluo’s hurried steps away and indignant muttering.

Eren made a face at him once he had turned away. The guy was obnoxious, but Petra was nice—her cooking sucked and the water she brought always tasted funny from the vitamin powder she’d put in, but she was pretty cool. He couldn’t get away with anything around her, though. That was annoying. He swore she had the eyes of a fucking hawk, just like Mikasa.

His gaze finally lowered from Oluo’s retreating form and back to the pot he was unearthing. There wasn’t anything special about it, just a standard copper pot—probably used by soldiers stationed at the foot of the wall to warm their meal or something. There were a lot of bottles around, too. Petra had muttered something about them being alcohol bottles. Eren's thick brows furrowed. What kind of soldier drank on the job, anyway?

“Eren!”

That was Petra yelling again.

“ _Damn it_ ,” he muttered, looking up to see Petra motioning pointedly at the pot he was supposed to be unearthing.

“I know this is your first dig since you were hired—” she continued to yell, “—but _try_ to focus on your square! Break’s in ten minutes!”

Eren nodded, feeling his face heat—maybe it was just the sun again, making him want to stand up and curse at the heat it was giving off since punching it wouldn't exactly _work_ , but he quickly ran the bristles of his duster along the edges of the pot instead.

His first dig— _damn_ , he didn’t know how long he had dreamed about it. Out in the field, digging up skeletons, maybe even finding a skull with a structure matching that of someone important. The thrills—even the heat was what he had itched to be a part of since he was ten.

The Wall Age—still one of the most mysterious points of history, more than _cavemen_ or the spoken language of the Egyptians—so mysterious that only a few of the names of prominent figures or heroes during that time survived. Their best resources were sketches and written notes—most poorly drawn, most smudged beyond recognition—faces of those who planned to be remembered _lost_ to nature.

The bristles stopped moving, head turned to look over his shoulder.

The outermost of the three walls loomed behind him—crumbling, no longer the height historians said it used to be, but still impressive enough to leave him breathless. Could they—those who lived back then, people who lived in _fear_ of monsters that ought to belong in fiction—have really relied on just stone to protect themselves from the outside world?

He was one _lucky bastard_ to be working at the base of the wall on his first dig. Most got stationed inside one of the cities. That was boring work—importance be damned, he wanted to be a part of _this_ team—the ones that got to work at the most unexplored sites, the ones unearthing artifacts that could finally lead to connecting the mess of strings that was the timeline of the Wall Era.

Others called this team the _Freedom Team_ —the ones that freed unknown information. Petra Ral, Oluo Bossard, Eld Jinn, Gunther Schultz—and Hange, the sometimes leader and always _all-time_ top expert on the Wall Age.

Now _he_ was a part of them.

A grin crept up on his lips. It was hard not to make a stupid face.

He was going to do it someday—discover the long-lost journal of a soldier like Petra, or mission papers like Gunther—something important and ground-breaking to shine some hope on finally fitting the missing pieces of the era.

He would. He would do it.

Gloved hands pulled on the pot’s base—it was loose enough from the dirt now, and popped out easily. Eren wanted to work on the skeleton rather than the pot, but Oluo had said he wasn’t experienced enough to handle something so “delicate”. Eren might have been able to scrounge up a bit of respect if he hadn't called him a brat and bit his tongue, at which Eren nearly _choked_ from trying not to snicker.

He was _supposed_ to respect these guys, after all—and act mature, as Mikasa always reminded him, because twenty-three _apparently_ equaled manners and good behavior.

“Oh! I see y’finished unearthing that pot, Eren! Which is great, _because_ —”

 _Hange_.

Eren didn’t even need to look up, but he did.

Hange was probably the equivalent of Bill Nye the Science Guy when it came to the Wall Age—throw in some extra crazy, really dirty hair that he was sure was an archaeological dig of its own, and a never-ending supply of energy, and one got Hange the Wall Age Guy— _girl_ , crazy—Eren usually stuck with plain crazy.

It was hard enough to keep up with just her talking, especially since he actually tried to listen instead of being a dick like the rest of the team and wandering off when she started speaking Wall Age lingo.

Maybe it was because anyone who stayed usually spent two hours getting their ear talked off.

“—because I want you t’come with me! Oh, _oh_ —we’re doing something really exciting! _Super_ exciting, if you ask me, but don’t, because they’re starting up the machine in five minutes, and I don’t want to miss the moment all that stone crumbles like—”

“Wait—Hange—” it was hard to get a damn _word_ in, and Eren kind of felt like he was in elementary school again, trying to get the teacher’s attention just to go to the restroom before he pissed his pants. “—what d'you mean? Stone crumbling? Is the wall coming apart? Is—”

“ _Oh_ , don’t get your undies in a twist! There’s some sort of hole in the ground underneath a section of the wall that we’ve discovered!” she gushed, waving a hand frantically in the general direction of a segment of wall a few feet down. “It’s a pocket—a bubble, like underwater, where there’s air—but it’s sealed by some rubble, so I have one of those big corkscrew machines, _and_ —”

“Now? _But_ —don’t you have to talk to mister Smith before—”

“Eren, don’t be such a _stickler_ for details! Erwin’ll be fine with it—I’m seventy percent sure. C’mon!”

He realized vaguely that there really wasn’t much of a choice, almost dropping the stupid pot with how hard she yanked him up.

“What about Petra and the others? They’re—”

“— _busy_! _Too busy_ , and they’ve seen machines go through pockets under the walls before! You’re the newbie, so consider this a rite of passage, my dear Eren—maybe we’ll even find somethin’ good other than all those boring skeletons we found last time. Bunch’a nameless soldiers, unfortunately—no papers or indications—”

“Yeah, I read about that in the newspaper—”

“—of course y’did! Now—let’s go!”

And they _were_ going—Eren hadn’t realized he had been dragged along most of the distance till they passed a gap in the wall, where none of it remained except a few small boulders shorter than he was. When he turned his head, he could see the expanse of land beyond it—grass rippling from the humid wind that yanked at each blade.

To think that for so many years, no one during that time saw _this_ —the grass, the hugeness of it all, despite the fact that it was right on the other side of the wall—right there for a peek. It was almost kind of ridiculous to imagine.

History had a _weird way_ of progressing.

“—and here we are!”

Eren hadn’t even realized Hange was babbling the whole time, but her announcement got his attention—along with the fact that he almost stumbled over a pathetic excuse for safety cone.

Right at the base of the wall segment they had stopped in front of was a large hole—looked about twelve feet high and wide, and all he could see inside at first was darkness as Hange dragged him towards it—never-ending darkness, like going down a huge throat. The tunnel dipped drastically as they went, and Eren muttered a curse as his legs dropped heavily at the sudden incline, ankles protesting sharply. A minute of uneven, jerky walking passed, then Eren saw his first bit of light as they came to a corner. It was coming from stationary LED camping lanterns—all white and blue, more like a bruising rather than light, but it served its purpose as they rounded the corner. Eren almost slammed his face into the immediate wall of rubble he was met with.

After a quiet “ _fuck_ ” and startled blinking, he asked—

“Uh—where’s the machine?”

“ _Oh_ —it’ll be here in a second!” Hange insisted, staring up at the top of the rubble. Her eyes looked even more unsettling in the periwinkle glow.

Eren followed her gaze. The ceiling was pretty far up— _way_ farther up than the top of the entrance had been.

“What do y’think is behind it?” he murmured—more quietly than intended, as if not to disturb whatever was behind it—a hell of a creepy thought.

It wasn't like anything could survive hundreds of years in there. There was kind of an eerie feeling, like standing before an unmarked tomb, unsure of the identity of whomever was encased behind the stones. Some part of him wondered if there could be someone alive in there—a dumb part of him, anyway. He imagined a deranged old man with a long gray beard and yellow teeth happily singing to a stone with a face drawn on it with blood.

Hange was shaking her head.

“Could be anything, kiddo. More skeletons, hidden goods—maybe even stacks and stacks of copper pots for you to look at!”

Eren shot her a look—she was giving him a wide grin, teeth aglow.

It seemed all he had unearthed that day was pots. How many did an old civilization need, anyway?

“Is there anything we know about this part of th’wall?” he asked after another passing moment, gaze shifting to squint at the rubble right in front of his face. There weren’t any gaps for him to see through, but he wished there were—he could feel the adrenaline starting to pump through him rather viciously, making his arms tingle and knees fidget.

This could be part of his big break—eyes widening slightly with realization. Being a part of _this_ —if something important, even mildly so, was behind the rock and dirt, he would make the city paper and news. His mom would be proud of him—Jean would be the most jealous bastard on the planet.

He just wanted to yank the rubble out himself. In fact, the adrenaline was making him feel like he really could. It was almost painful, and Eren swallowed thickly, feeling the saliva push against his adam's apple.

Hange started talking again, running her fingers against the crevices of the rocks with vigor.

“Well, not _really_ —I did find a few chests with some documents in them near this location, but most of the pages were too yellow to read with human eyes, so I’m waiting for the scans to come back from the lab—from your _dad_ , actually!”

“He’s—er, a part of this dig?”

There was a sense of embarrassment when someone mentioned his dad. His dad was pretty cool, in his own way. He did a lot of the more science-type stuff for artifacts they sent back—cleaning them, scanning and removing hundreds of years of decayed lettering, but it was the typically negative dad-and-son-working-at-the-same-place atmosphere.

Some said that was the reason he got a job in the first place and a place on the Freedom Team so quickly, because his dad worked there and _knew_ mister Smith.

It stung, but this wasn’t some crappy got’a-prove-myself movie he would go see with Armin at the cinema. They could talk shit all they wanted—he was going to prove he was made for this anyway, even if his dad hadn’t also employed there. 

The bastards could forget about making him feel sour over a job he’d wanted his whole damn life.

Hange kept going.

“Yup! I’m expecting them tomorrow, so if he doesn’t deliver, know that I’m making _you_ put the heat on him!”

Eren shrugged his shoulders a bit sheepishly—contacting his dad at work wasn’t high on his list. That was even more embarrassing than sharing the same workplace.

Hange started to move now along the wall of rubble, hands tracing an invisible line. Eren quickly followed, boots scraping the loose dirt.

“We don’t know anything?” he ventured finally, the pads of his fingers drifting across the jutted edge of one of the rocks.

“Nothing! Just something about a mission—like most documents, it’s a little _dull_ —a few smudged out names and numbers.”

“Oh, that’s—that kind of _sucks_.”

“Yeah, pretty disappointing, but—”

The roar of an engine caught their attention. The tunnel filled with light all of the sudden, and Eren quickly covered his eyes with his arms. The damn headlights were ridiculously bright, and all he could see were spots for a moment. However—

It was finally here.

This could be it.

###### . . .

“Are we all good?”

It was probably the fifth or sixth time Hange had yelled that. 

Eren glanced around again just in case, restlessness prodding another once-over. Everyone involved—mostly standard workers, heavy lifters, and the guy operating the machine—had their gear on, which included masks, goggles, and helmets. There were a lot of dangerous possibilities when doing a dig like this—the roof collapsing, rubble flying out, foul air. Hange had put several stabilizers up against the roof of the tunnel just in case. Scenes from "The Mummy" instantly came to mind, but Eren gave his head a sharp shake. Damn Marco and his movie nights.

He couldn’t get himself to stay still, shifting from foot to foot as his eyes went back and forth between the corkscrew bulldozer and the wall of rubble. Hange had said repeatedly not to expect much, though Eren was pretty sure she was even more excited than he was. He couldn’t help it—the anticipation made all of his limbs stiff, and the rapid, edgy breaths had the inside of his mask a little too warm for comfort.

Everyone was standing behind the machine now as the engine came on. It roared loudly, echoing inside the tunnel, making the noise that much more amplified.

Eren felt like his heart was going to bust out of his chest. 

When it moved forward—spewing rock off to both sides as it made contact—he felt like the beating had stopped.

Minutes passed.

A few more.

Suddenly, the engine was off. Everything and everyone stopped moving.

“We’re through!” the driver finally hollered, leaning his head out of the side-door’s window.

Hange practically screeched—a noise that Eren was sure was louder than the engine despite her mask—and ran forward, stumbling over rubble and disappearing into the dust cloud that was forming around the hole.

Eren didn’t follow her at first, utterly still as the cool air gushing from the new entrance brushed across his cheek and rippled against his sleeves. 

This was air that hadn’t been breathed for hundreds of years. This was history flowing into the atmosphere, into his lungs.

He made a face. Maybe he should have joined the writing club like Armin had suggested. That had to be the sappiest shit he had thought to himself in a while.

Finally, he made his feet move, steps carrying himself along the same path as Hange. Over the rubble, into the dust cloud—

 _Stars_. _Stars_ against the wall of the cavern, creating a shimmery blue hue over the brown.

It took him a moment to remember that he was in a hole in the ground—it wasn’t nighttime, and there was no possible way there could be huge balls of light and gas beneath dirt—

It took him another second to realize _what_ he was staring at.

There were two of them—side by side in the middle of the cavern, propped up by boulders. They were glittering because of the camping lantern Hange was holding up to them.

 _Crystals_. Two _humongous_ , shapeless lumps of crystal.

Eren had to remind himself to breathe, adrenaline once again painful as he pulled the mask off of his mouth and slid his goggles up to rest on his forehead.

Hange was practically hyperventilating. She had already ditched her mask.

“ _Eren_ —” she breathed, the hand that was holding the lantern up to them shaking viciously. “This is _it_ —this is the break we’ve been looking for—this is—this— _titan crystal_! And—”

She screamed all of the sudden, startling Eren out of his stupor as he fumbled over to her.

“— _what_? What is it?”

“— _people_! People inside! _Eren_!”

The crystals were both incredibly foggy, and from the distance he had been standing at first, there was _no way_ to see, no way at all, but up close—he could see a dark lump inside each crystal, definitely figures of some sort.

 _People_.

Two people preserved for over hundreds of years—priceless for archaeology.

Hange was gone, screaming to the crew to get mister Smith on the phone right that instant, having shoved the camping lantern into Eren’s arms and nearly face-planting herself into the ground with how quickly she had thrown herself out the entrance.

Eren watched her go, mind blank, then slowly turned his gaze back to the crystals as sweaty fingers set the lantern down on the ground in front of them. 

It was mesmerizing to see the light bounce off the dents.

Hesitation—his hand raised in front of one of the crystals, centimeters from running his fingers against its surface. Goosebumps raised the hairs on his arms, causing a startlingly painful shiver down his spine.

How many hundreds of years had it been since someone had touched these? Placed them there? Left the entombed bodies for someone else to discover?

He pressed his fingers against its surface, the aged air in his lungs stuttering.

It was surprisingly warm despite how cool the cave was, and Eren flinched before pressing his fingers more firmly against it, watching as the pressure from his own muscles fit his hand to the crystal's sharp angles and dents. His skin turned white for a moment before blood rushed back. His mouth parted as he exhaled shakily.

Everything else about titans disintegrated. All that historians had were the records from those of the past. Titans left nothing behind—no bones, no skin, not even traces of blood—

 _Except_ for the crystal.

It had only been mentioned once. Eren remembered learning about it during a lecture in college, a small mention right before the professor had moved on to the possible reasons that titans were “susceptible to death by that of their nape”, but he had always remembered it in the back of his mind. He wasn't sure why, really. No one else in class paid special attention to the note, but there was something about it that made him feel like he had _forgotten_ something. Some historians believed the possibility of its existence, and others did not. He had never decided if he did.

But— _here it was_.

It wasn’t going to be a small mention in some two-hour lecture anymore. He was _right there_ touching what they'd be taking notes about.

“—wonder who’s inside,” he murmured—quietly, as if the people inside were sleeping—a weird thought to have, one that made his stomach flutter uncomfortably. “—and how long you’ve been in there. Five hundred years? Six hundred? _Damn_ —seems you’re perfectly preserved, too.”

He was pressing his face to it now, squinting, trying to see the figure inside just a little bit better.

Details were completely distorted by the crystal’s fogging. The figure seemed small—maybe a teen—and one hand was outstretched. Eren squinted till his eyes hurt and he had to blink, rubbing them with his fists.

“ _Shit_ —forgot they had dirt all over them.”

Ignoring the sting of the dust, and he ran the nail of his thumb along the crystal’s surface.

“Don’t worry— _uh_ , whoever’s in there—you’ll be out soon.”

A short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Great—I’m talking to a damn corpse. That’s kind of gross.”

Loud voices started to approach the entrance now, and Eren quickly yanked his hand back down to his side just as Hange and the rest of the team entered.

They all stared with wide eyes. Eren wondered if that was what he looked like when he first saw them—bewildered, open-mouthed.

Petra whipped out her iPhone and took a picture, muttering about the flash as it bounced off the cave walls, whiting out the crystal's sparkle. Hange had her special camera, and was already circling and snapping shots, practically heaving with over-excited breaths.

“Eren!”

Hange was right up against his shoulder, and Eren nearly jumped out of his damn skin.

“— _wh_ —what?”

“Stand in front of this crystal! I want to take your picture!”

“Well—I—”

“Go on!”

Eren shuffled his feet for a moment, then nodded, turning his back to the crystal and taking several steps to the side.

“A little more to the right!”

Eren gave her a sour look, but obliged.

“Perfect!”

A bright flash—Eren blinked with momentary blindness.

“Now—move out of the way, you’re in the crystal’s shot!”

Eren grinned as he moved. He felt a bit giddy from it all, though the notion passed that maybe he ought to feel a little _creeped out_ by the fact that he had just taken a photo with a dead body in some crystal like it was a famous landmark on the side of the road.

_This is it, Eren. This is history right here, and you’re a part of it._

“Hange.”

She looked up from the viewer on her camera, huffing impatiently. Eren hurriedly continued.

“Did you call mister Smith?”

“ _Oh_ —I did—”

“What did he say?” Eren interrupted, taking a few steps forward. “—when are we getting the bodies out?”

Hange clasped her hands together—tried to, at least, but her fingers knocked clumsily over the camera she seemed to forget she was holding.

“As soon as we get crystal samples! I’m glad to see you’re just as excited to see the corpses as I am! Oh, just imagine—” She was practically swooning now, and Eren made a slight face, brow furrowing. “—perfectly preserved bodies and clothes—maybe even uniforms! Or— _or_ —even civilian clothes! With D.N.A. traces that could link us to so many—”

She was rambling now, and Eren was distracted by the arm Oluo had thrown over his shoulder.

“Well, brat—”

“ _Hell_ , Oluo—I’m twenty-three—”

“—shut up. Looks like y’got lucky, being a part of something so _historic_. Y’know, you should be digging up more fossilized plates and shit with the rest of the juniors—”

“ _Oluo_!”

Oluo winced at the sharp tone of Petra’s voice.

“Will you leave Eren alone already? I swear—”

“It’s, uh—fine, Petra, it really is,” Eren interjected, shrugging—more to get Oluo’s arm off his shoulders more than anything else.

Petra smiled, then turned her attention back to the crystal.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” she crooned after a moment, taking a step so that she stood beside Eren. Oluo had grudgingly taken a stance on the other side of him.

“Yeah,” Eren murmured back. “Did you look closer? At the bodies?”

“Mhm! I think one’s a woman, and one’s a man.”

Eren snorted slightly, turning to look at her.

“Wait—how do you know? They’re so foggy. The only thing I could see is that the one in that crystal has their hand out.”

Petra smiled widely.

“That one is the one with the guy inside.”

“Petra just knows these things,” Eld interjected from behind them.

Gunther nodded, adding a hum of agreement.

Petra continued. “—seems kind of sad, doesn’t it? The guy in the crystal. It looks like he’s reaching for _someone_ —or something.”

Her tone was purposefully mysterious, and Eren fell into uncomfortable silence, gaze reverting back on the said crystal.

It had looked that way—the body twisted as if in _desperation_. What had he been desperate for? What cause? Or for _whom_?

“Don’t space out on us,” Eld teased, jabbing his elbow into Eren’s arm.

Eren forced a grin at him.

“I’m not—just thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Oluo muttered. Petra pinched him.

“We should give them names in case we can’t figure it out,” she declared suddenly. “You should name the one with the guy, Eren—to commemorate being part of your first big find.”

“Uhm—well—” 

“Come on,” Gunther urged, offering a slight smile. “It might seem a bit morbid, but it’ll help with paperwork.”

Eren pursed his lips. A dozen names ran through his head—Mike, John, Spencer—the first names that would come up on a basic Google search.

“I—I duh’know,” he faltered.

“Well, I’ll go ahead and name the girl,” Petra offered gently. “She seems like an _Abbie_ to me.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

A sigh whooshed from Eren’s mouth, running a few fingers through his hair.

“Well, how about—Lewis? Or—”

“Lewis is perfect!” Petra gushed, nodding fervently. Eren smiled widely at her. It was nice to get some damn approval for once.

Hange had finished her photo-shoot, almost bouncing as she walked up to them, covered in dirt and sweat and still wearing the ridiculous goggles over her eyes.

“Abbie and Lewis, huh?” she squeaked in satisfaction, her ponytail bobbing erratically at the several hard nods she gave them.

“I just wish we could get them out now,” Eren mumbled—a little more loudly than intended, feeling his face heat with the murmurs of agreement that echoed in reply.

What would they look like? Would they still stay preserved once they were out of the crystal? How were they going to crack it? When could they do it?

“Equipment should be coming in from the city tomorrow,” Hange explained. “Titan crystal isn’t exactly like actual crystal—they didn’t have much to compare it to back then! There seems to have been some erosion taking place, so we should be able to chip it off ourselves now that it’s weaker. But—I need some things on site for the bodies that we don’t actually have at the moment.”

Eren nodded slightly, but disappointment swelled up in his chest. 

Could he really _wait_ until tomorrow?


	2. REACH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > " _Aside from criminology, I’d say archaeology has the highest body count._ " — **Jarod Kintz**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos appreciated! I would love to hear what you all think so far. 
> 
> while I don't plan to do a lot of translating in the future for the story (leave things to mystery and all), I will say that "Nren" is "Eren" in the old language that Levi knows.

“—how tall are they? Does the diameter match the height or are they more oval-shaped? Are—”

“—damn, slow down! Maybe it’s the Skype lag, but I can’t answer a million questions at once— _Armin_.”

Armin gave him a half-hearted glare—a _very_ low definition glare fed through what Eren was sure was the crappiest laptop known to man and beast—at least, his dog had chewed on the corners. That had to mean it was crappy enough for animals to dislike it.

Maybe his dog was just dumb.

“— _and_ ,” Eren continued, squinting behind Armin’s choppy outline, “—what’s with all the people in the dorm room? I’d say it’s a party, but then I can see your homework on the couch, so I know that idea’s not looking great.”

“For your information, Eren—” Armin got huffy when he was offended, and it only made the smirk sneaking onto Eren’s face that much more prominent. “—it _is_ a party. Well—Mikasa’s, I guess.”

“ _Mikasa_ ’s having a party?”

“That’s a bit misinformed—Connie decided to convince Mikasa to have one.”

That made more sense. Mikasa wasn’t one for parties. It wasn’t as if she withered under the idea of social interaction, but volunteering it beyond basketball practice would have made Eren’s brain burst into flames. She only had parties when she was made to—for birthdays and other publicly acceptable party dates, like most people. 

Eren thought Christmas parties were the best. That is, if _Sasha_ provided the food.

It was actually just the food that mattered. Mikasa kept saying that if he ate so much, he would become a giant.

“Eren, you have to answer my questions about the crystals! What time are they drilling?”

The beaming expression remained on his face as he leaned back, settling against the pillows on his cot. It was late at night—the thrill of discovering the crystals just a few hours before still thrumming in his veins. Sleep felt impossible, adding the fact that being in a tent about several feet from uncovered skeletons gave him horror movie flashbacks.

Marco— _Marco_ , of all people, picked the worst movies for movie night. 

“I don’t have to tell you anything, Armin—I could hang up.”

“If you do, I won’t fix the picture quality on your laptop when you get back.”

“ _C’mon_! That isn’t fair!”

He had decided to call Armin just for a chance to discuss it. He might have called Mikasa, or even _Jean_ just to have a small gloating session, but now he could see why they hadn’t answered the Skype call. Armin’s questions were pretty basic— _no_ , he hadn’t measured the height— _no_ , he hadn’t measured the diameter, but, _yes_ , he would send Armin the picture Petra took on her iPhone. Eren had spent a long time looking at it himself, pinching at the screen and stretching his fingers to zoom in on the distorted, dark shape. He had passed an hour like that without even realizing.

“Earth to Eren— _Eren_. Something wrong?” The lagging image of Armin showed he was tilting his head, causing Eren to blink as his eyes re-focused on the laptop's screen.

He shrugged vaguely, ignoring the pinch of Armin's eyebrows. There wasn't anything wrong—nothing that he could put a rational name to, but the feeling in his stomach had only intensified. It wasn’t a comfortable or pleasant buzz someone got when they were excited. Either it was Petra’s dinner sandwiches, or—

“I duh’know, Armin. Damn, I mean—I guess I’m excited, but I have this bad feeling.”

“Bad feeling as in ‘I left all my clean underwear at home’, or bad feeling like ‘a _grim reaper_ is at the foot of my bed, this is the end’?”

“Just—I _don’t know_! I didn’t have it this bad when I was actually in the cavern.”

“Maybe it’s like that Disney movie about Atlantis.” Eren made a face. Armin was grinning. “You know, Eren—the one you watched about fifteen times.”

“Shut up, Armin. It had to be seven, at most.”

“ _No_ , that’s ‘The Road to El Derado’.”

“Maybe I can punch you with the power of my mind.”

“—could be worth a try. I was reading a book—”

“— _yo_ , Jaeger!” 

Jean’s face suddenly infiltrated the screen—that, and his can of beer, which sloshed audibly. A sloshing can of beer described Jean perfectly, Eren decided—that, and the sound of a can of beer being stepped on and crushed.

“—didn’t realize you had a jackass at the party, Armin—”

“Shut up,” Jean snapped. Making Jean snap was fun, but it was more fun when Eren could actually see the wrinkle in Jean’s brow face to face instead of the blurry, pixel-y mess his laptop was translating back to him. He knew Jean could see the shit-eating grin he was displaying, at least. Armin's tech was better than his.

A lot of people said they weren’t friends from first impressions—enemies, or something dramatic like that. Friends for the sake of a good fight without sending the other to jail. They were friends—“ _special friends_ ”, Mikasa had said, and Eren had to agree. He enjoyed one-upping him, at least, if that meant shit.

_What are friends for?_

"Look, I have to go, Armin—Jean—tell the others I said ‘ _hi_ ’.”

“You’re such a dork, Jaeger, nobody jus’ says ‘hi’ anymore—”

That signaled the perfect opportunity for Eren to click “end call” viciously.

With the laptop closed and set aside, he leaned back, staring up at the top of his tent. He could see the lights from the stars peeking through the gaps in the fabric, but it wasn’t as comforting as he thought it might be.

It just reminded him of the crystals—Abbie and Lewis.

Petra had insisted they use the names. Eren didn’t want to give names to dead people and then continually refer to them like they were alive, something the team had taken up doing during dinner. It was kind of like “Bloody Mary”. Maybe if they said the names too many times, the ghosts of the bodies in there would come to haunt them. Eren was starting to think he was too damn paranoid.

That would, however, be just his crappy luck.

Maybe when they cracked open the crystals tomorrow, they _would_ unleash some sort of curse. At night, in the dark, the probability of that seemed high—a curse where Eren was doomed to dig up ancient kitchenware for the rest of his career as an archaeologist. 

It seemed about right, anyway.

He rolled onto his side, eyes now locked on the opposite end of the tent. The bottom edge lifted occasionally in the breeze, but there wasn’t much to see, just the outside of Oluo’s tent next to his. He entertained the idea that for a moment, in the dark, he could see the foggy figure from the crystal with its hand outstretched standing there, _watching_. Eren squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to lay on his back again.

_This really is it, Eren. You just feel sick because you’re fucking excited—excited enough to jizz your pants. Well—not that, at least, you aren’t a teenager anymore. If Petra woke you up the next morning and saw that, she might have a heart attack._

A loud sigh.

Tomorrow needed to hurry.

###### . . .

“No, no, and _no_! The lowest setting and the smallest drill, not medium setting and semi-large drill!”

When Hange was nervous—and not the kind of nervous where one might think she’s hopped up on cocaine or something— _everyone_ felt it.

It’s a different kind of anticipation than when he had been there for the first drilling. This was the kind of anticipation where everyone was there all around him and their nervousness was practically _radioactive_ in the air and seeping underneath his skin. He didn’t know what to do with his hands anymore—keep them at his side like Oluo and Gunther, wring them like Petra was doing, shove them into his pockets like Eld, but he finally settled on fiddling with the straps to his helmet, nestled under his chin. 

It was a little loose. It had been loose when he had checked it five minutes ago, and he had made it fairly tight then, so maybe it was just him imagining it being loose all over again.

Eren was going to have to think on that for a moment.

The equipment had arrived around dawn. It felt like dawn, but it was actually around nine o’clock when the vehicles rumbled in and disturbed him from the half-asleep manner with which he was eating the cereal he had packed.

He hadn’t slept well that night. His dreams had been filled of scenes from that stupid Disney movie, and instead of a hot, white-haired chick, it was a man’s rotting corpse he married in the end. Instead of Atlantis, he had gotten Corpse Bride.

He was pretty sure something was wrong with his brain.

Helmets, goggles, mouth masks—the same kind of gear and caution, but this time, they knew what they were drilling towards, and just how royally fucked they would be if they messed up the cargo inside. It was nerve-wracking enough when they had to make the hole bigger for the drilling vehicle to come through, especially when extra stabilizers had to be added for the ceiling. Eren thought he was going to crap his pants when dirt crumbled from the ceiling at the other side of the cavern.

There wasn’t room for any mistakes.

His dad had talked about this kind of pressure one time at the dinner table—Eren texting discreetly under the table, and Mikasa staring him down from across the big pot of pasta. One wrong move, he had said to Eren, and history would disintegrate and disappear in the palm of his hand. It was a lot of power to have over the past.

Eren understood that ten times over now.

“Alright— _alright_ , it’s better with this drill,” Hange was saying—last minute instructions, he realized. “—drive up till the very tip is against crystal, and grad—u—ally build up the setting as you go. The density isn’t something I’m sure of yet, so don’t rush it! We’re going for no broken bones—in way of the corpse I mean, of course—as perfectly preserved as possible!”

Eren felt his stomach churning.

“Okay, everyone! We’re about to start drilling! Please keep close to the entrance and watch for crystal shards!”

Eren saw Petra grab Oluo’s hand out of the corner of his goggles, and a smile flashed on his lips.

_You get some, Oluo._

Hange took a stiff stance beside him. He could see her eyes roaming the cavern repeatedly behind her huge goggles, several tense seconds passing before—

“ _Start the drilling_!”

The drill erupted to life, and almost everyone cringed at the horrific screeching that filled the cavern as metal made contact with the crystal, tiny pieces of it flying everywhere, hitting the sides of the cavern and into the dirt. Eren was pretty sure he felt several rather pointed pieces strike his legs.

He looked over to see how the others were doing. They all flinched occasionally, and he knew he wasn’t imagining the bits of crystal flying out from behind the drill. It was only Hange who didn’t seem to get hit—or, at least, wasn’t bothered by it. She had her hands clenched into fists and gaze locked on the crystal.

It startled the hell out of him when she finally yelled for the drill to switch to the other crystal. It seemed it had drilled enough that the thin chunks of foggy crystal left could be remove by hand, and the process was started all over again with the second lump of crystal.

There was a _background noise_ that had been bothering him for at least a minute now. It wasn’t coming from the drill—the drill was making a deep whirring sound, withn the occasional shrill screech when it hit the crystal wrong. There were the muted “clinks” of crystal bits hitting the ground and the occasional grunt from Oluo when a piece nicked him. However, none of these matched _his_ noise.

A _rumbling_ —low, distorted. Ominous. 

It _lingered_ when the drill stopped again, but Eren was distracted by the fact that everyone was now jogging up to one of the crystals—Lewis. If Petra was correct, they were chipping the guy’s body out first. The drill had managed to shave what they had decided would be the front pretty close to the foggy shape within.

Hange, along with Gunther, were already chipping away. Their jobs were delicate as hell work. Eren and the others could only stand and watch, each person’s heavy breaths making that much more noise inside the masks.

“—are you almost through?” Oluo grunted after a few minutes, arms folded tightly over his chest as he peered over Hange’s shoulder.

She was working like a madman for someone who said the whole damn thing was such “delicate work”—chipping here and there, making quick work of the crystal and leaving a pile of broken-off parts at her feet. She didn’t reply.

Eren missed Oluo’s annoyed remark.

There was something weird about the crystal now.

He took several steps forward—then a few more, face to face with the crystal, eyes narrowing. He could see his reflection, hopelessly messy hair tucked under a helmet, dust smeared down his neck. It was odd, because if the crystal was solidly fogged, like he had assumed, he shouldn’t be able to see his damn reflection at all.

Something was off at the core, where the body was.

“ _Hange_ —” he started.

No reply, just more chipping.

“Hange, I’m _serious_ —can you stop chipping for a second? Please?”

Eren pressed his fingers to the crystal as he spoke—heart beating with an increasing speed, and he couldn’t figure out why this was putting him on edge, but it _felt wrong_ , very wrong, and Hange needed to stop, because the crystal didn’t feel warm anymore. It felt _cold_.

 _Frozen_ , vibrating subtly under the pads of his fingers.

Hange hadn’t stopped chipping.

“Hange—Hange! Damn it, _st_ —!”

He wasn’t prepared for it.

There really wasn’t any way to prepare at _all_.

One distinct noise—the sound of the tool Hange was using hitting the crystal particularly hard, and then—

Cold.

Air whistling viciously passed his ears, stinging the shell.

 _Pain_.

Something had cut his arm, his leg—pieces of crystal?

Air was exploding from the crystal—from inside, and it made his eyes water despite the goggles, tears pricking the corners and beading up against his cheeks, frosty air biting through his thick khakis like they were as thin as he had wished they were yesterday.

He couldn’t hear anything, just the wind gusting passed, as if it was filling his head.

It reminded him of being in the field at a farm when he was little, some school field trip. He didn’t remember what they had been growing there, but he remembered it towering over him, bending and rippling like seaweed at the bottom of the ocean floor.

Screaming brought him back to reality.

Petra was screaming— _screaming_ Gunther’s name, and Eren wanted to look over, he did, he really did, but the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach was now at his chest and it filled his throat and kept any words from being spoken and his head from turning.

All he could do was stare at the crystal—or what was left of it, fog was oozing out of the large opening as the wind died down.

_It was hollow in the middle?_

That didn’t matter—that didn’t matter to the panic fogging his brain, because reality’s fog meant he couldn’t see anyone, and the ringing in his ears made the shouts around him muted, like a television with the volume turned down ridiculously low, teasing him with only tidbits of what was happening. The only problem was that he didn’t have a remote to turn it back up.

The crystal was nothing more than a crater now, with remaining portions of it jutting out in all directions from the center.

A dark figure in the fog.

There was someone standing in the middle of the crystal’s crater. 

He felt like vomiting. The adrenaline was overwhelming, but throwing up in a mask wouldn’t exactly be the greatest move, and the thought alone had him swallowing down his cereal again.

 _Move forward_.

He should stay where he was—wait for help, wait for the fog to clear, wait for someone, because one leg felt incredibly numb—

 **Move forward**.

A tentative step—titan crystal crunching under his boots as he limped.

 ** _Move forward_**.

Maybe it was the determination of the archaeologist inside him—wanting to save history at all costs, to fight for its survival, because he really should be worrying about himself and not the corpse inside, but he was already stepping into the crater, the chill becoming that much more intense.

The fog was clearing.

It was a man.

Petra had been right.

The man stood with his arm outstretched, hand open and fingers spread. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his hair seemed frozen in a permanent disarray, black strands sticking up in all directions, revealing an undercut. He was clad in a military uniform—for the soldiers who explored outside the wall, if Eren remembered the pictures from the textbooks correctly, with those heavy metal rectangles they used against either side of the man’s legs.

It was hard to think straight beyond vague recognition—face to face with a _dead_ , frozen body.

 _However_ —

Eren was pretty sure that dead bodies didn’t breathe. The whole point of calling someone dead was the fact that they weren’t breathing, that their lungs no longer took in air and let it back out, but—

His nostrils were moving. The damp shirt clinging to his chest expanded and collapsed shakily.

The man— _the corpse_ —was _breathing_.

_Shit, he was breathing?_

Eren, pretty damn sure his own heart wasn’t even beating anymore, bent down and leaned forward slowly, so very slowly, exhaling shakily as his face got closer and closer to the man’s. He squinted through the fogging of his goggles.

Hand trembling, he lifted it to the man’s lips, holding the back of it against them.

Weak puffs of air against the his skin made his insides crawl and a shiver to shoot violently down his spine.

This wasn’t a corpse. This was a _living_ , breathing human being that was supposed to be dead but instead was alive.

The man’s eyes flew open all of the sudden.

Eren couldn’t breathe anymore. He couldn’t. He felt like his throat was stopped up with saliva, thick and clinging to his esophagus. Moving didn’t seem like an option either, even though he was centimeters from the man’s face. That should have been a hell of a motivation to move it. Maybe it was the air, but he felt just as frozen as the person in front of him should be.

They stared at each other—Eren and the man—for a long moment. Eren could see bits of melting condensation clinging to the man’s short, sparse lashes, which moved up and down when he blinked over grey eyes. Eren's goggles were starting to fog and his back ached from bending over, but he couldn't stop _looking_. He could see his own reflection in those eyes, swallowed by the iris and the pupil. Eren could even taste the man's breath on his tongue as they took turns inhaling.

“—Nr—en?”

The voice didn’t belong to him. It was raspy and disgustingly thick, like it hadn’t been used for years and years—it probably _hadn’t_ , in fact, and the idea made Eren’s skin crawl all over again.

Eren didn’t realized the man had sagged forward until he felt the other’s forehead pressed against the mask covering his mouth and the metal of the gear knocking against his own legs.

“—ren! Eren! _Eren_!”

The volume was back up.

His head jerked to the side, body straightening. Most of the fog had cleared, and he could see Hange frantically moving around masses of crystal on the ground. There was blood on her shirt, and it created an oozing circle of red.

Was she hurt?

He lifted a hand to yank down his mask. It was starting to suffocate him now, and he shuffled the man's body that was slumped against him and breathing shallowly against his chest.

Inhaling the cold air felt better without the mask—made everything seem clearer. Maybe he hoped it would wake him up from this nightmare.

“ _Hange_! What's going on? Is everyone—”

“Gunther’s seriously injured! So is Eld, I—I think, but I still can’t tell—” She was pale, incredibly so. “—I am too—Eren, your arm—and your _leg_!”

He looked down slowly.

There was a large piece of crystal stuck in his thigh, and he could feel blood trickling down his leg inside his pants. He couldn’t feel his arm—he assumed it shared the same fate, or maybe it was just numb. He felt wildly sick for a moment—blood was pouring out of him, _his blood_ , but all he could do was stiffen.

This wasn’t the first time he had seen this kind of horror, and it didn’t have to do with Marco’s movies.

Hange’s eyes were glued on something— _someone_. Eren knew who.

“Is—is that—the, ah—body?” she faltered, swallowing. She had stopped trying to walk, standing at the base of the crater. “Eren—it—it looks like it’s breathing—”

Eren almost wanted to laugh. Just chuckle, chortle, burst out in a fit of obnoxious wheezes, because she was right. This man was breathing, which meant Eren hadn't imagined it, and he was alive—hundreds of years old, but _alive_.

Eld and Gunther might being dying for it. Maybe they all were.

“—he is breathing,” Eren answered shakily, the arm that wasn’t utterly numb slinging around the man’s waist as he started to slip. The should-be corpse let out a harsh wheeze and scattered noises, all cracked and broken. “—he’s fucking _alive_ , Hange," Eren continued hurriedly. “He blinked and. . . _stared_ right at me.”

For the first time since Eren had known Hange, she didn’t have anything to say—simply gaping at him.

“— _Nre_ — _n_. . .!”

Eren stiffened, Hange’s eyes darting from the man and to him.

The same weak, croaking voice, only louder than the scattered noises that Eren had felt vibrate against his chest.

“Did—he just—he just _spoke_ —”

“Do you know what he’s saying?”

She shook her head rapidly, and Eren glanced down at the man. The other’s body was practically quaking against him, and he could feel blunt fingers digging into his shoulders.

It was almost kind of terrifying—endearing, if this was a completely different situation, but the only thing Eren could think of was a zombie taking this opportunity to take a chunk out of his neck. 

_Rumbling_.

There was that rumbling again. Eren slowly looked up to the ceiling of the cavern. It was shaking—in fact, the whole thing seemed to be pulsating— _crumbling_.

The cavern was coming down.

 _The cavern was coming down_.

They didn’t have enough stabilizers.

He didn’t remember the moment when he had started running, dragging the supposed-to-be corpse along with him, one arm around the man’s chest and the other hand grabbing Hange’s, pulling her along. Rocks were falling in all places around them, hitting the ground and making their trek that much harder, stumbling every time the impact rocked their balance.

Stumble and run, _stumble and run_ —

Eren stopped all of the sudden. Ice shot through every vein in his body. He could see Petra at the other side of the cavern, and his insides dropped all the way to his _toes_.

She was pinned underneath a boulder. It wasn’t her legs or her arms that were pinned—the rock was square on her back, and her limbs flailing desperately against its weight like an insect. Oluo was there too, pulling on one of her arms with a sort of wild desperation that had his stupid rain-boots slipping on the dirt.

“ _Damn it_! _Hange_ —we have to help them—”

“We can’t make it over there, Eren! We—we won’t be any help to them! We’ll be crushed like a _grape_ before—”

A large boulder hit the ground inches in front of them, blocking their view of Petra and Oluo. Dust attacked the surface of his eyes, and Eren blinked furiously, vision watering.

He didn’t care—he didn’t give a damn if he were crushed, because he had to try, he had to _fight_ and get to them just to try and help, but Hange was yanking on his arm in the opposite direction, towards the entrance, where workers were screaming and yelling at them to _hurry the fuck up_ —

Eren felt wild—out of control, every bit of his chest on _fire_ —

“ _Oluo_! _Petra_!”

He could barely hear himself screaming over the din of the cavern collapsing.

Everything seemed in slow motion. Some people said it didn’t happen that way—that everything sped up with perfect clarity, going so fast they had no chance to stop, that it was horrible.

Eren was sure it was worse in slow motion. Rocks were falling from the ceiling, hitting the ground with a " _whoosh_ " and causing dirt to fly up like a disturbed flock of birds, and—if he looked down—there was the slow movement of his own feet stumbling backwards with Hange’s pull, heels scraping with every step. This was worse because it made it seem like there was an actual chance of stopping everything.

Then there was the man at his side—fingers pinching where he clutched Eren so firmly that Eren actually felt immense pain from the grip, but he didn’t let him go, didn’t let his hand— _slick_ from sweat—slip off from around the man’s chilled chest despite the fact that the gear made him so damn heavy. Despite all the noise, Eren could hear _him_ and the hoarse, meaningless words the man seemed to desperately spew at him. The man could barely stay upright, and it took every ounce of Eren's strength to keep him on two feet and in motion.

No one was going to _die_ for nothing.

They made it through the entrance—the rest of the workers were there, all covered in dust, bleeding, some profusely and some not. Eren could see Gunther and Eld propped up against the wheels of the drilling vehicle that they had left parked outside the cavern.

They didn’t seem to be moving, but there were so many people running around that Eren just couldn’t see. Were they dead?

Hange was shouting for everyone to get the hell out of the tunnel. Eren followed behind her, limping as fast as he could with the man— _Lewis_ , Petra had been so pleased when Eren had decided on Lewis—holding onto his shoulders, exhaling weakly against the crook of his neck.

The grip was incredibly weak compared to before, however, and Eren’s own hold tightened with a sick wave of worry. 

“—call for an emergency team from the city! _Right now_! We need ambulances, helicopters—something! Anything!” Hange was ordering, one hand clutching her stomach.

People were scrambling around, grabbing their cellphones, others dragging out cots from the tents and placing them on the ground for the wounded. Hange was shouting left and right, moving with them, but Eren felt rooted in his spot, head turned towards the tunnel’s opening.

They were still down there.

“. . .Nren—?”

The man was talking again, and it made him focus and quickly pull Lewis to one of the open cots, knees quaking.

It could be several minutes before anyone from the city came, even an emergency team. Would Lewis survive out in the open, from the crystal? He might die in the next few moments from exposure, and Eren, for the life of him, couldn’t understand the word he was repeating. 

Language barriers sucked, especially ones that spanned _several hundred years_.

“Look—” Eren breathed, and so did Lewis—probably because he finally said something to him, and not because he understood it. Eren got to his knees and bent over, lowering Lewis to the cot, trying to loosen the fingers that seemed hopelessly knotted in the fabric on the back of his khaki jacket. “Just—stay still, alright?”

Lewis only squinted blearily at him, thin brows furrowed. For someone who had been frozen in the center of a titan crystal, he was sweating a lot. Eren could see the beads trailing down his pale forehead, feeling the slick dampness from the other’s hand soaking the back of his jacket.

Hange knelt down at the other side of the cot.

“How is he doing?”

“I—Hange, I don’t know—he’s sweating a lot and he looks really pale.”

“ _Shock_ ,” she said immediately, frowning deeply. “This isn’t good. We need to stabilize him! Just think, Eren—he’s been in that crystal for centuries, his body’s probably having trouble remembering how to use its lungs, not to mention the rapid temperature change. I don't think he can see very clearly yet, either—”

“Will you stop?” Eren hissed. “I get it already!”

Hange didn’t seemed offended. If anything, her expression became something gentler. “We need to bind your wounds, too. The one on your leg looks pretty deep. How are you feeling?”

“Numb. . .I guess. Look—" A slight swallow, eyes lowering to Lewis, whose own clouded eyes were darting back and forth. "I’m sorry for snapping, just— _Petra_ —and the others—and Lewis—”

It was crazy. Something out of a movie, a hellish version of "The Mummy".

Hange merely shook her head, waving a hand. “Y’need to focus, Eren. Get his gear off of him now. Looks like it’s that 3-D maneuvering gear that the soldiers used. Incredibly heavy, which is _not_ good for this situation. Can you do that? _Without_ destroying it?”

Eren nodded so quickly that he felt his neck pop.

“Good. Get to it, kiddo. I’ll come back with some gauze.”

He set to work immediately. The straps and clips were complicated, his fingers shaking something terrible. It was hard to focus on what connected to what and where. Lewis kept trying to say something—things Eren didn’t understand, and he struggled to ignore the croaked words, even when he felt a weak hand pulling at his wrist.

He didn’t have time to be nice or gentle about this, even if Lewis was important.

Somehow, he managed to yank it apart buckle by buckle, pushing it aside in a disarrayed pile of leather straps and two rectangular masses of metal. The gear was almost just as priceless. Most of what they found was rusted and decayed, but this was frozen in perfect condition, like Lewis.

Eren’s gaze drifted to the tunnel again. 

In the back of his mind, he registered the sound of the ambulance and whir of helicopter blades. His senses vaguely acknowledge how the man’s grip on his wrist tightened and the fingers brought familiar throbs of pain, but all he could do was stare at the tunnel.

He felt dizzy and sick—he felt _everything_ at once.

Maybe if he had reached a little more, tried a little harder—Petra and Oluo would be up here with them.

They wouldn’t be buried inside the gaping mouth of the darkness.


	3. FALL ON YOUR KNEES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > " _Statements that will hold good for all time are difficult to obtain in archaeology. The most that can be done at any one time is to report on the current state of knowledge._ " — **Jennifer K. McArthur**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos appreciated! I am so glad to hear all of you excited about the plot! I have put quite a bit of thought to this.
> 
>  **EDIT** : I thought it was obvious, but just so everyone understands, Levi's name isn't going to permanently be "Lewis". that was just what they gave him so they'd have something to call him since there was no way of learning his actual name at first.

The blaring sirens of the ambulances were getting louder.

It was kind of _distracting_ , if he focused on it too much—like a child screaming in a grocery store that one might willingly ignore just to have a little bit of _peace_ while buying some damn peas. He didn’t want to acknowledge the noise—he wanted to pretend that the sirens were for somewhere else, _anywhere_ other than where _he_ was—he just wanted to buy his peas and be done with it.

_It reminds you of when **that** happened, doesn’t it?_

Darkness seemed to be _swallowing_ him, reaching out from the tunnel and dangling his consciousness above its gaping opening like a monster—like a _titan_ , even. Was this the feeling people got so long ago whenever tragedy struck? When their very _realities_ were in hands the size of a large horse?

How did they _face it_?

“—Eren.”

Did they drag themselves from the brink?

“—Eren!”

Or did they let themselves _sink_ into the abyss of stomach acid?

Hange was shaking his shoulders fairly aggressively—it made his arm throb, and when he got his eyes to re-focus, her face was in front of his. She was still wearing those stupid goggles—why was she always leaving those on? They were annoying, and it reminded Eren that he was still wearing his. He yanked them over his head—the helmet came unlatched with the violence at which he tugged the goggles off, and the burn the straps left when they scraped his cheeks was already numbing before he could even _relish_ in it.

Both hit the ground.

_Face reality, Eren._

“Hange— _Hange_ , stop shaking me already!”

His voice sounded a lot more choked than he had intended, and it suddenly felt like _he_ was the one that hadn’t spoken for hundreds of years.

“You were just sitting there, Eren—staring at the tunnel—I thought you were passing out, y’know!”

He looked over her shoulder. The emergency team—with their own, much more advanced supplies—was entering the tunnel, their flashlights illuminating it for half a second before it swallowed them _whole_.

Eren wanted to go with them.

“The emergency team—they’re going in?”

Hange nodded quickly. “Yes—we need t’get Oluo and Petra out of there _as soon_ as possible. Gunther and Eld are already in a helicopter and being rushed t’the hospital.”

He had to ask. He just had to, even though he didn’t _really_ want to know—it wasn’t like he didn’t care, but the sick fluttering in his stomach was insistent.

“—are. . .are they—?”

“ _Dead_?” Eren winced—he didn’t want it said out loud, but Hange’s grim expression made him realize there was _no_ going around it. “I’m go’n’a be frank with you, Eren—” He hated how the exuberant tones that were usually in her voice were completely _absent_. “It’s not lookin’ great. Gunther’s got a serious neck wound—and _Eld_ , he’s—”

Words weren’t really necessary. Eren _knew moments_ like this—where the silence explained everything ten times better than actually speaking.

However—something suddenly came to mind.

“What about th’other crystal? The one Petra said had a girl in it— _Abbie_? If Lewis was alive in there, then— _then_ —”

 _Three people_ might have been crushed to death.

“I—I don’t know, Eren, this wasn’t something I was expecting—” He didn’t like hearing her say that. She was _Hange_ —all-time expert, she _had_ to know everything. “—but after the drilling, with how easily I was able to chip away th’crystal from Lewis, then—”

“She’s _dead_.”

Hange slowly nodded.

“Ninety percent certain her body might have shattered into _pieces_ with the crystal from falling rocks. Lewis’ seemed to be hollow, but Abbie’s? Right up to her skin.”

He couldn’t look at her anymore—not while she was in front of the tunnel.

Was this the maturity Mikasa had been talking about? This _magical thing_ that came with being twenty-three? Was it supposed to be inherent? Something he automatically knew how to utilize? He was sure dealing with death was a fairly _mature thing_ , _but_ —

He felt like a fifteen year-old all over again, staring down at the bully that had been bothering Armin—staring him down during the few seconds where he had been afraid he had _killed him_ , because he hadn’t moved for the longest time, and the adrenaline that had felt amazing before slowly dissolved and made his raised fists go limp and kept him from feeling Armin pulling at his sleeve, begging him to call the hospital, or something—

“—Eren?”

He didn't look up—just a low grunt.

“Get into an ambulance with Lewis—we need to get you and him in a stable condition.”

Realization made his shoulders hunch—that’s right, they had _Lewis_ —Lewis, who was tugging somewhat _frantically_ on his wrist now, still laying on the cot beside Eren’s place on the ground. Eren made himself look at him—he didn’t really want to, because it was _stupid_ , but looking at him reminded him of Petra, because it had been her dumb idea to name him—he would have been calling Lewis an “it” just for something other than “the man” if it hadn’t been for her.

He did look, though.

It was really obvious now that Lewis could barely see at the moment—he kept looking at Eren, but not _right at_ him—around him, like he couldn’t pinpoint exactly where he was. He was still really sweaty— _clammy_ , Eren decided, because the wet fingers yanking at his wrist were still cold.

He _had_ to help him—but he couldn’t leave Petra and Oluo.

He couldn’t, could he?

“Someone else can take him— _Hange_ , I have t’stay and help—”

She had the nerve to laugh at him.

“Help _how_? No offense, kiddo, but you currently have _two limbs_ out’a commission!”

“Sir, do you need help standing?”

One of the teams from the ambulances had approached them. Lewis’ head jerked in their direction when they spoke, and his grip reminded Eren of what if might be like to hold hands with the _Incredible Hulk_.

“Hange—”

“Another word, _Eren_ , an’ I’m making sure Erwin fires you.”

He clamped his mouth shut despite himself.

Two of the ambulance team members were starting to pick up the cot Levi was on. Eren scrambled to get up—almost fell over to one side as his leg protested—but he was up, and he was still _fighting_ , and for now, that was all that mattered, to keep everything under control—get Lewis to an ambulance and on a respirator, get some bandages for his leg and his arm—

Something hit him in the jaw— _smacked_ him hard enough that his head jerked to the right and his gums throbbed.

“ _The fuck_ —!”

 _Lewis_.

It was like the guy was suddenly _possessed_ , limbs flying everywhere the moment Eren had managed to get his wrist out of his rock-hard grip—and it was his boot that had come into contact with Eren’s mouth. He gingerly cradled his jaw with one hand. It was a familiar feeling—blows had landed there _plenty of times_ during fights, but—

The two men carrying the cot were having trouble keeping it level. Lewis’ movements were rocking it to and fro, and even though he was a short guy, limbs kept coming into contact with the people who tried to steady him—people who were yelling for sedatives—and Eren felt himself running over when they were suddenly pulling on Lewis’ shoulders and legs instead of the cot, which clattered to the ground.

“What’s _happening_ t’him?”

“We don’t know, sir! He just started acting out! Should we sedate him?”

Lewis’ head had turned towards Eren now—his back was _arching_ away from the hold of the ambulance people, and—

It really seemed like he was trying to get to _him_.

Why would he want _him_? Why would he make any difference than the rest of the strangers? Because he had helped him from the crystal?

“— _Nren_! Quod die _lucida_ ist eins auf? _Nren_ —”

More croaked words that Eren couldn’t understand, and he wished even more desperately than before that he _could_ , because the two men that were struggling to hold Lewis still became five men, and Eren couldn’t help—he didn’t know what he wanted, but Eren found himself hurrying forward, leg throbbing with every step that seemed to be in time with the rhythmic movement of Lewis _thrusting_ his body away from people that were trying to help.

One hand raised.

Lewis stopped moving—he didn’t sag, but he went stiff as Eren held his hand up.

Fuck him—he didn’t know what the _hell_ he was doing, but Hange had disappeared down the tunnel, and all the ambulance team could do was hold Lewis in place—

He thought of being in front of the crystal—before they had shattered it to pieces, staring up at the top of it, squinting, running his fingers along the surface and admiring the heat and the smoothness. He had told it that everything was going to be good—talked about getting whomever it was out like he had known someone was alive in there. It was an unsettling realization, a prediction that made insides crawl.

Lewis’ skin wasn’t as smooth as the titan crystal. It was _wet_ to the touch, however.

Eren didn’t remember when he had moved to actually _touch_ the man—when he had gotten _so close_ that he could see the sweat rolling down the other’s neck and soaking a cravat, because he certainly didn’t do it of his own conscious will—but the tips of his fingers, the very tips were pressed against Lewis’ cheek.

He could feel Lewis breathing against his wrist.

They made eye-contact—for the second time, Eren recalled vaguely, and it seemed like every noise had _disappeared_ , faded into the background. All his ears could register was wheezing—not his, Lewis’—and the hum of the team around him speaking to each other.

**_Calm down._ **

It was a small act—a barely noticeable reaction, but Lewis sagged forward just slightly.

“I’ll carry him,” he said quietly— _finally_.

“Sir, your other arm will only bleed that much more from th’weight—”

“It’s not like I’m running a fuckin’ _marathon_ with him!”

They all fell silent.

It was sheer will-power that Eren got his hurt arm to even _move_ , and buckets of determination that made both his arms hook under Lewis’ and lift him from the others’ various holds. Even without the gear, Lewis was pretty damn heavy for someone his height.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Eren found himself breathing—his leg almost gave out on him, but he grit his teeth. He could taste copper from the blow he had been dealt seconds before.

 _I swear, if one of my teeth comes loose_ —

It kind of felt like he _was_ walking a marathon as he carried him to the nearest open ambulance—tried to carry, at least, but between his leg and his arm, it was more of Lewis gripping tightly to his body instead of Eren holding him up. Eren was momentarily relieved that the man’s eyes hadn’t started working properly yet. He had seen a lot of time-traveling movies—someone from the past being exposed to today’s speeding cars and technological wonders, and he knew he didn’t have the strength to go all me-Tarzan-you-Jane with Lewis and a huge ambulance.

That would have to come later.

_How would he react?_

Eren could feel Lewis’ hold starting to slip again—the previous struggle must have tired the hell out of him. He quickened his steps, stomping up the ramp and all but falling with the man onto the ambulance bed. There was a rush of people moving about in the back of the ambulance, medical terms and orders shooting back and forth over his head.

He found it _really hard_ to understand what they were saying.

Lewis had gone all but limp, and Eren shifted him so the he was placed more securely on the bed. He could feel his eyes on him, staring, but Eren avoided them this time, because he was feeling _incredibly_ light-headed, and it was all he could do to concentrate on Lewis’ stupid cravat.

“—Nren.”

Black spots were filling his vision.

_Must be the blood. Geez—I’m not dying, am I? Mikasa’d be pretty pissed, and it’d make Mom cry. Dad wouldn’t have anyone to “follow in his footsteps”. Wow, that’s nice, Eren—this isn’t the fucking “Lion King”._

“Nren?”

Head lowered slowly—he could feel Lewis' damp shirt pressed against his forehead. If he tilted his head to the side, he could feel the “ _bum-bump, bum-bump_ ” of the man’s heart against his cheek. It was _kind_ of soothing, really, even if the whole damp shirt thing was gross.

Eren didn’t really feel like dying on some guy’s sweaty shirt—or dying a day after his first dig, either. That would really suck, he was sure, but it was _hard_ to stand up anymore, and instead of hovering over Lewis, he could feel the other’s body flushed up against his.

_This is nice, actually._

**_Don’t die, Eren._ **

There was the sound of voices again— _louder_ —and Lewis’ chest was vibrating. Maybe it was him talking, or maybe it was Eren’s imagination, but the voices' tones were really sharp now, and he could feel the man starting to move beneath him.

It was all starting to slip away— _slowly_ , _thickly_ , like blood pouring from a wound.

Probably his wound.

He wasn’t sure if he was glad to see the darkness anymore.

###### . . .

Everything was dark—he couldn’t see a thing.

There was music playing somewhere. He knew _that_ , at least, but it wasn’t a song he recognized. He generally didn’t know a lot of songs—his mom had said Eren was born to be an eighties man. He blamed her for always putting it on in the car when he was little, but he really didn’t mind.

Current music could _suck_ his _dick_.

“—maybe we should turn the music _off_ , Armin.”

“Why? I read it’s soothing for patients.”

“I don’t want him to wake up before he’s supposed to.”

“It’ll be _fine_ , Mikasa—”

His eyes opened.

Everything was white at first— _white_ and _blurry_ and he had to squeeze them tightly shut again because it was frankly overwhelming. He let a few seconds pass—watching the bright spots of color behind his lids fade.

When he tried again, it was pretty _obvious_ where he was—

The hospital.

To his right was a window—one of those huge windows that started from the ceiling and almost reached the floor. Across from him, hooked to a wall, was a small television. It was on, at least, but the picture seemed blurry and the sound muted, so he slowly shifted to look to his left.

Mikasa and Armin were staring down at him—Armin with his brow furrowed worriedly, and Mikasa with her lips pursed into a thin line that made them white instead of pink. It startled the hell out of him, but all he could was blink as their faces went out of focus.

Hospitals were all too familiar. He had been in and out of them a lot when he was younger for various reasons—mainly fights, but when he was really little, he was the type of kid to go climbing the huge tree in the park that his mom would warn him _not_ to climb—he never listened very often, and he _always_ fell, no matter how many times he tried.

Fights just came with anger issues and _really_ obnoxious classmates.

Everyone said he had anger issues, at least—that, or a really big mouth and a righteous attitude. All of them seemed probable and all of them made him laugh at the same time.

“—Eren? How are you feeling?” Armin was asking— _slowly_ , and it made Eren want to smack his shoulder.

“I didn’t get a concussion—” He had to pause to clear his throat, because the congestion was _disgusting_. “—if that’s what you’re trying t’hint.”

Mikasa flicked his forehead.

“Everyone’s worried about you,” she said—scolded seemed more likely, but her expression was just as impassive as ever, if not for her eyes narrowing slightly. Her words seemed to waver. He didn’t like it when her voice got like that. “—what happened is even on the _news_.” His attention turned to the muted television again as she continued. “—what happened out there? The doctor had to give you more blood and stitches.”

He could see what was happening on the screen more clearly now—there was some reporter he didn’t recognize, and an aerial view of the dig site. They zoomed in dramatically to the tunnel’s opening, but the impact was lost with it being muted.

Eren didn’t need to hear what they were saying anyway.

Mikasa squeezed his hand.

“There was some problems with the crystal and th’cavern— _but_ —I really don’t _know_ ,” he murmured. “It all happened so damn fast, an’—there wasn’t anything I could do! _Nothing_!”

“Eren, don’t get worked up!” Armin hissed. “They’ll sedate you like they did with the other guy that came in with you.”

That had his attention. Things he ought to be worrying about were slowly coming back to him—Petra and Oluo, Gunther, Eld—Hange—and _Lewis_.

Questions filled his head in an instant, but they all _burned out_ on the tip of his tongue.

_Breathe, Eren._

“—the man—is he okay?”

Armin looked to Mikasa, and they both shrugged.

“There was a pretty big scene when you and he were wheeled in. They called us before you got to the hospital, so we saw the whole deal—well, saw what we _could_. They were trying t’move you to a separate cot, but he was causing a lot’a trouble and shouting.”

“Seemed like he was delirious,” Mikasa interjected, and Armin nodded.

“Definitely delirious, or something. He wouldn’t let go of your arm, Eren—” Armin’s voice had lowered slightly. “And he was kicking and throwing a lot of punches. They had to get back-up. I’m pretty sure they sedated him _really_ heavily. Is he— _uhm_ —a part of your dig team?”

Frustration bubbled in the pit of his stomach—Armin’s question going unanswered. How could they do that? They needed to treat him _gently_ —they couldn’t just inject him with modern-age drugs—and—

_You know, you’re getting unreasonably frustrated. Do you really care about him that much? It’s because of him an’ his stupid titan crystal that—_

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment—blocking Lewis’ face from his head, because he had another question to ask, one he had been dreading since the moment he realized he had to ask it.

“—and—do y’know anything about the team? _Petra_ —Hange—”

“We don’t,” Mikasa answered sullenly. “We’ve been in your room the whole time since you arrived, Eren.”

More frustration.

How was he supposed to relax when he didn’t even know if he should be _allowed_ to?

A quiet knock on the door—Eren turned his head towards it, and so did Mikasa and Armin.

“Am _I_ allowed inside?” chirped a voice behind it.

Eren immediately pushed himself to a sitting position with a low grunt, ignoring the throb of pain in his arm and dull protest when his hips shifted, because the voice definitely belong to—

 _Hange_.

Time for some real answers.

###### . . .

“—we got Petra and Oluo out.”

Until then, Eren felt like he hadn’t even been breathing, exhaling slowly at the news.

“How— _uhm_ , how are they?”

“Oluo came out pretty much unscathed—physically, anyway,” Hange hummed. She had taken a seat on the edge of his hospital bed. “ _Petra_ —Petra’s alive, but the injury to her back? Not so good. Some problems with her spine, some very unhappy nerves—she’ll live, but there’s a hundred percent chance she’s going to lose some functions.”

“— _damn it_.”

“Yeah.”

Silence seemed best for the moment.

It was hard to take in. That morning, they had all been perfectly fine. They had all been excited, nervous, perfectly goddamn healthy—the day before that, Oluo had been chiding him for no reason, and Petra was unearthing the skeleton of someone they all knew was just about as important as some stupid pot.

Now she was in emergency surgery.

“—Gunther and Eld?”

Hange didn’t say anything—just gave him a sorry look.

Eren couldn’t breathe again. Mikasa was holding his hand, running her nails on the top of his palm.

“Eren, maybe you shouldn’t hear—”

“I’ll be fine, Mikasa,” he snapped. “I want Hange t’answer my question.”

Hange exhaled quietly, looking down. “—they’re. . . _dead_ , Eren. I’m sorry.”

 _Dead_.

“Gunther was dead on the scene, apparently,” Hange continued, voice oddly quiet. “Eld was gone the moment the helicopter took off. A big shard of crystal jammed into his lower stomach.”

They were _dead_.

“Things like this can happen, Eren. We use precautions and all, but there isn’t any _certainty_ when working these kinds of conditions.”

He _knew_.

He had read about plenty of accidents—this wasn’t _new_ information, this wasn’t something to add to his worries, because it did happen, and it was recorded and publicized, and sooner than later, the parents would call, and they would sue mister Smith for lack of safety—

“Eren?”

This time, it was Armin whose hand was on his—he didn’t realize he had curled it into a fist until the other made him loosen it. When he looked down, he could see the angry crescents fading on his palm.

He felt like falling on his knees and _screaming_ at the world and fate for its horrible decisions and ideas that fucked everyone up.

A guttural swallow—then he was able to find his voice again.

“Hange—did y’check on Lewis?”

She shook her head. “Not _yet_. He’ll be awake soon, I think. The nurse said he was pretty weak, but his vital signs are gettin’ better! His eyes’ll be back to top game, unless he actually needs glasses or something.”

“I want to be there the moment he’s awake.”

Eren was a bit startled at how _severe_ his voice sounded, but Hange only grinned.

“—wouldn’t dream of talking to a centuries old man _without_ you, _dear_ Eren.”


	4. THINGS YOU'VE TAKEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > " _The past itself, as historical change continues to accelerate, has become the most surreal of subjects, making it possible to see a new beauty in what is vanishing._ " — **Susan Sontag**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not everyone's moral compass is pointing in the right direction - namely Hange's. comments and kudos appreciated. check out my tumblr [here](http://mstrholmes.tumblr.com/).

It had been two hours since he woke up.

Petra was still in surgery. When he had asked just how long the whole damn thing was going to take, the only answers he got were vague—they were talking days, apparently, and even though he knew these were established doctors that had to know what they were doing, it didn’t make the sense of dread any less present. Oluo hadn’t shown his face around either, and Eren found that he didn’t want to see him anyway.

He couldn’t bring himself to face him yet.

Was he feeling guilty?

 _Maybe_. He had seen Oluo, in the cavern—had the chance to run over, add his strength to the effort. In the back of his mind—the rational part that usually went ignored—he knew there was probably jack shit he could have done.

_Everything’s a mess._

Eren had managed to convince Armin and Mikasa to leave after the first hour. He was fine, he _felt_ fine—there was only the occasional throb from his numbed limbs, namely his leg, but that was worth dealing with, because pain was warranted during times like these. They needed to go tell his parents he was alright.

Mikasa hadn’t wanted to leave—neither of them had, but Hange said he wasn’t allowed to explain why she had mentioned a _centuries year-old_ man. It seemed like she didn’t realize she couldn’t drop a fucking bomb like that and _not_ explain it.

However, with pants on—because he refused to walk around in a hospital gown, and if that meant wearing shorts, he would deal with it—he was _prepared_.

He was prepared to get out of the hospital bed the moment they announced Lewis was awake.

Hange was still hanging out in his room—it seemed like she didn’t have anything better to do but ramble to Eren with some sort of history jargon. It was about the Egyptians, he guessed, but he found he really wasn’t paying as much attention as he could.

There was a pressing thought that had him _more_ than a little distracted.

“—see, with th’Egyptians, we can read their language, but we have no idea what it sounds like. There’s probably something similar to it today, of course! Arabic, other littler strains, but the core doesn’t exist! It’s th’same with the Wall Age. We have people who can read it— _me_ , for example—but I couldn’t speak it out loud to you. We won’t be able t’understand anything of what Lewis is saying when he wakes up, but he could write stuff down—hopefully, he’s _able to_ , y’know—not _everyone_ learned back then, and—”

“—when are the funerals going t’be?”

Her mouth clamped shut. Eren didn’t care—the whole thing felt incredibly _off_. When were they going to make preparations? Where were the tears? Sobbing in the hallway outside his door?

Why couldn’t he bring himself to cry yet?

Hange exhaled noisily.

“Eren—”

“They _deserve_ t’be here.” He didn’t particularly like how bland he sounded—this warranted more emotion than his feeble excuse for a voice. “Gunther and Eld—they’re th’veterans. _They_ should be here for a moment like this—not _me_ —the newbie!” There was the emotion—his voice had cracked at the end. “They should be meeting Lewis, an’— _and_ —”

“ _Eren_.”

Hange’s sharp voice made his head jerk up—he didn’t realize he had been looking down, but he wanted to under her suddenly severe stare. The joking nature was gone again.

“I need you t’have a clear head right now. Don’t you understand what’s happening? How _big_ of a moment in history this is? This may be your first rodeo, Eren, but it isn’t mine—there’ll be time to grieve, but I’m go’n’a need you t’focus! My _whole team_ is down—” Eren’s shoulders hunched, gaze finally falling to his lap. “—Erwin and everyone else who can help are on th’other side of the world!”

A hand came to rest on his knee. He looked up hesitantly.

“It’s just _you_ an’ me, kiddo. We can’t leave Lewis sedated till funerals are done and Erwin comes back—we have t’take care of this _now_.” Her gaze was fiery—crazed, he would have said, if the situation allowed any bit of humor. “Gunther, Eld, Petra—Oluo, wherever that guy is—they’re relying on _us_ t’get some answers first!”

Eren’s brow furrowed. He could feel the wrinkles gathering in the middle of his forehead.

Did it really need to be taken care of _now_? It sounded wrong—it sounded a little bit obsessed, if he thought about it, but maybe— _maybe_ he was wrong, and it was still the confusion of the events hazing his judgement.

 _Has to be_.

Hange had to know best, at least. It was all he could now to snivel and nod, because he hadn’t even realized he had started crying until he tasted snot on his lips.

“Are you with me, Eren?” she gushed, grabbing both of his hands and startling him. “Or am I down another team member?”

 _Determination_.

He could do that.

Eren squeezed her hands back tightly. “Don’t worry, Hange—I can do it. _I promise_.”

###### . . .

“You nervous?”

It seemed like a dumb question, but Eren answered her anyway.

“—yeah. A bit, I guess.”

She gave his arm a punch, and he hissed at the throb of pain it elicited. His arm had checked out alright in comparison with his leg—seemed like a crystal had only grazed a sensitive part of it.

“Liar. You’re a lot nervous!”

“No _shit_ , okay? Just—can we go in now?”

They were standing outside one of the hospital rooms. It was on the third floor in some tucked away corner of the building. _Hange_ was standing, but Eren had to settle for leaning on a crutch. He refused the wheelchair the nurse offered first. It might have worked better to hide the fact he was wandering the halls in a pair of shorts because the doctor had said a shirt and actual pants would irritate the stitches, but he wanted to be up for this.

“They’ll open the door when we can, Eren, no need t’get so fidgety! Lewis is only just comin’ out of it.”

He didn’t get why they couldn’t just wait inside. Hange had prattled about it having something to do with “overwhelming him”, but Eren had his doubts. It had to be freaky enough for the man to wake up surrounded by white walls and monitors.

 _Geez, I feel kind of sick again_.

The door abruptly opened a crack—Hange all but _shoved_ her face into it, startling the hell out of the nurse and whispering loudly— “ _Can we come in_?”

A couple of hush-hush moments later, and the door opened fully. He had tried to listen to what Hange and the nurse were saying, but despite how loudly Hange had whispered before, she had managed to quiet herself to the point Eren was left uncomfortably clueless.

 _Showtime_.

Eren spotted Lewis immediately—and the two burly security guards standing at the far side of Lewis’ hospital bed.

The man didn’t move immediately. He was sitting up, posture stiff and facing resolutely forward, completely still except for the repetitive rise and fall of his chest. They had put him into one of those hospital gowns that didn’t have a back, and if Eren tilted his head _just_ slightly, he could see—

Scars. Leather burns. A _lot_ of them.

It took his breath away for a moment.

He must have done it pretty loudly, because Lewis turned his head towards them all of the sudden, eyes locking immediately onto Eren’s figure.

Chaos all over again.

Before Eren had time to blink or even feel ridiculously uncomfortable under the hardness of the man’s stare, the security guards had their arms looped around Lewis’ waist, holding him down to the bed as the man immediately _lunged_ forward.

“ _Nren_!”

Lewis was wriggling and writhing in the other two men’s grips, but they didn’t relent—Eren guessed they were special hospital staff, but he didn’t linger on the idea, because there was a sense of _panic_ at the rough way they were handling him.

“— _stop_! _Jesus_ , don’t squeeze him so hard!”

He ran— _tried_ to run, tried his hardest, but then there was the matter of the crutch and the cold-hard fact that running with one leg in the air is _extremely_ difficult, but he managed to make it across the room without tripping over himself. Lewis had stopped struggling almost _immediately_ when Eren moved forward, but the security guards still held him tightly—half off the bed, half on it. 

Hange was following close behind him.

“Let him _go_!” he snapped.

A second of silence—a second of hearing everyone’s heavy breathing.

The guards’ tense arms loosened, and Lewis slowly slid from their hold and back onto the bed.

Eren felt ridiculously relieved and nervous all at once, because now Lewis was just sitting on the bed, watching him.

 _Staring_.

 _Why does he keep lookin’ at me like that_?

“—Nren.” Lewis’ voice seemed _stern_ , quiet. “Cur sind vos loquentes wie quod?”

“— _uhm_ —” 

Eren turned helplessly to Hange—she had a notebook in her hand and was scribbling madly. 

_Fuck, Hange, put down the notebook and help me already_!

His ears caught the sound of the bed creaking, and Eren hastily jerked his gaze back to Lewis—who was _a lot_ closer to the side of the bed Eren was standing at than he remembered. There was more silence—save for the scratching of Hange’s pencil—and he felt like withering under Lewis’ intent stare.

He met his eyes, even though he didn’t want to. _Anxiety_ was the first thing that came to mind, despite the man’s lacking expression. The other’s face was monotonous, but his _eyes_ —there was an emotion to them that made his chest clench.

 _Calm down, Eren_ —

One of the security guards lurched forward all of the sudden, grabbing one of Lewis’ wrists and pinning it down to the mattress. Eren blinked, clueless for a moment to the man’s angry words at the guard and more attuned to the fact that Lewis had just tried to _touch him_.

 _Why does he keep trying to touch me_? 

“So!”

Hange’s loud voice rang around the room, and Eren all but jumped two damn feet into the air. Lewis looked to her instantly, thin brows pulling together.

“Ahje?”

“Oh, _oh_ —he’s trying to communicate t’me now!” she squealed. “Let’s see if we can learn his name, Eren!”

He had already forgotten that the man—who was currently wriggling his arm to get it out of the security guard’s tight grip—didn't _actually_ have the name Lewis.

“ _Wait_ —Hange—can you tell the guards to leave?” he insisted—obvious disdain seeping into his tone. “They’re being too rough. Lewis isn’t dangerous or anything.”

“How do you know?”

His jaw snapped shut, and he looked to Lewis for a moment. 

_She’s right. How do I know? Is it because of th’look in his eyes_?

“I—I just _do_. Hange—”

She waved a hand. “Alright, _alright_ , I was only pullin’ your leg.” A quick motion from the guards to the door, and they nodded, maneuvering around the bed. “I only put them there because I heard how violent my little find got when he they wheeled him in!”

Eren offered her a weak smile. _He knew_. 

The guards left with a soft “click” from the door closing. Lewis didn’t relax, however—shoulders stiff like they were still there, holding him back. Eren took a tentative step closer to the bed, clearing his throat with some difficulty. Hange bounded up behind him, and the man seemed to tense even more, but he didn’t flinch—didn’t make a sound, didn’t move away.

 _Why_?

Hange leaned forward, all but slapping a hand to her chest. “ _Hange_!” she stated—a bit loudly, but it got Lewis’ attention—he had been staring at Eren again. “Ha—n—ge.”

The man didn’t say a word. Just stared at her, one brow raised just a tad.

“Ahje—quod sind vos tun? Tu agenda mehr _rabidus_ quam ublich.”

No such luck the first time.

If she was frustrated, she didn’t show it. Eren already felt a twinge of exasperation.

“Ha—n—ge,” she tried again, enunciating slower than before. She then motioned to Eren, placing a hand on his shoulder. “ _Er_ — _en_.” After that, she pointed to Lewis, even tilting her head slightly.

 _Silence_. Grey, pointed eyes going back and forth between them. It seemed like he was exasperated too, and Hange was about to try again, but then the man’s lips parted slowly.

“. . . _Levi_.”

The squeal that came out of Hange’s mouth sounded particularly inhuman as she latched onto Eren, and he clamped his hands over his ears—then promptly lowered one arm as his stitches _throbbed_ in avid protest.

“We did it! His name’s Levi!”

 _Levi_.

It was scary how close he had been to getting it right.

“Hange—I _get it_ —can y’stop pulling on me? I’m go’n’a fall!”

She let go, and Eren gripped his crutch a little tighter, exhaling loudly in relief. Balancing was hard enough without Hange bouncing around and pulling on him, but her excitement was contagious, and despite the various throbbing, a grin flickered across his lips.

Levi just looked at them both with subtle confusion. Even without any expression, Eren could feel it rolling off the man in _waves_.

“Eren.”

He turned his head to Levi so fast he was surprised he didn’t get a serious whiplash.

“—quid’s iens auf?”

He wished he could answer him. He hated seeing people like this—people who looked lost, people’s voices that had grown quiet with _defeat_ , because he knew how to spot it—especially in himself, so many times and _too many_ drinks.

At the moment, Levi looked every bit lost.

 _It hurts_.

“Eren, give him this, okay?” Hange murmured, nudging Eren’s clenched hand with a piece of paper she had just ripped from her journal.

A low breath. Hand loosened—fingers pinching the paper between them.

When he looked at it, he recognized the scribbling immediately. Wall Age language. He couldn’t read it or write it like Hange could. _Armin_ could, too—the blonde’s main study was the language of the Wall Age. He felt out of place to not be able to understand the paragraph on it himself.

“. . . what does it say, Hange?” was the quiet admittance of defeat.

“It explains the situation—what year it is, how long he’s been out.”

Eren’s fingers pinched the paper a little tighter. “Are you sure that we should do that? I mean— _I mean_ —”

“Look at him, Eren.” As Hange placed a hand on his back, he did. “He’s a fighter! _And_ he needs to know what’s going on. There’s no easy formula for tellin’ someone they missed a few _centuries_. We need our own answers, too!”

She gave him a solid pat, and he nodded just slightly.

 _Right. It’d be bad to keep him in th’dark. Dad’s always sayin’ there’s no time like the present, anyway_.

He offered Levi the note. He stared at it for a long moment before taking it from Eren’s hand, eyes darting back and forth across the sentences. It seemed he could read, at least, which meant there was hope for communicating.

However, the tension in the air was thick. Even the patting motion Hange had taken up had stopped, and now her eyes were on Levi just as intently as his were. Waiting— _waiting_ somewhat patiently as one minute passed, _waiting_ less than patiently as the second came and went. Levi’s eyes hadn’t left the paper, and it seemed to Eren like he had scanned it at least three times now.

When the third minute came around, Levi crumpled up the note in his fist with a sudden clench. Eren sucked in a breath, wobbling slightly on his crutch as he found himself leaning away. This didn’t seem good, not at all, because Levi’s knuckles were turning white as he slowly, slowly looked up.

Confusion was replaced by _desperation_ in the man's eyes, thoroughly painful.

“Eren? Nren—quod _stercore_ ist hoc?” came the even-toned question.

Eren turned to Hange quickly—she seemed just as frozen as he was. Levi’s voice may have been even, but there was a wavering bitterness in each spoken syllable that made his shoulders hunch away. He shouldn’t—he was a grown man too, and this shouldn’t intimidate him because he couldn’t even _understand him_ , but—

“Ego fragte ein quaestio— _Eren_.” There was his name again, and Levi’s voice seemed to falter on it. “Es kann’t haben _quod_ lang. Damn _unmoglich_. Vos duo sunt immer viveret.”

 _Anger. He’s angry. His damn expression hasn’t changed once, but I can tell_.

“Eren,” Hange murmured, “ _maybe_ the guards should come back. He doesn’t look too happy.”

“This was your idea!” he hissed back. “No guards, not yet, okay? He hasn’t done anything.”

That changed almost the moment the words left his _stupid_ mouth.

He had no idea when Levi had gotten so fucking close, but the man was right up in his face—no more than an inch, he thought in the back of his mind, but all he could comprehend were the fingers _digging_ into the skin of his chest.

“Eren! Ego _fragte_ ein damn quaestio!” Levi wasn’t quiet anymore— _yelling_ , voice almost a croak when the pitch changed from disuse, and Eren felt rooted to the spot despite the pain. All he could see was the grey of Levi’s eyes.

 _Desperate. Pain. Loss_.

“Stopp agenda wie hoc! Fragte mich! _Eren_!”

Shouting and _more shouting_ and the sound of the door slamming open behind him and footsteps hurrying up to Levi’s bed and pulling him down as limbs exploded everywhere, much like Levi’s voice was exploding in the hospital room.

It was his name, over and over and over again till it sounded _distorted_ and _ugly_.

 _Levi_.

There weren’t any tears on the man’s face, but Eren was sure it sounded like he was _crying_ on the inside.

He didn’t realize Hange had all but dragged him out of the room till the door swung shut in his face and the din instantly became muted, just the sound of a nurse calling for a sedative from the cabinet and for someone to _hold Levi’s damn arm still_ before she injected the wrong place.

Eren breathed out sluggishly.

“. . . he seems to be fixated on you f’some reason,” he heard Hange muttering quietly beside him. “Do you know _why_ , kiddo?”

It took another breath before he could answer. 

“I—I really don’t know, Hange.” When he looked down, he could see angry crescents around his shoulders. “—it’s _creepy_.”

 _It hurts_.

She shrugged slightly. “Maybe you look like someone he used to know.”

###### . . .

The orders were that Levi was to remain strapped down on the bed. The doctor had wanted to hook him up to some tubes—said he was worried about hunger or thirst catching up with Levi’s body, but Eren thought it sounded like he wanted to be able to sedate him with the press of a button. Luckily, Hange seemed to be on the same page as him, but she did allow the nurses to hook him up to the heart monitor in case his body started failing. 

It was a pretty scary thought.

It didn’t seem like Levi was suffering from any physical damage, at least. There were a few bruises and his ankle seemed like it had been _twisted_ recently before he had been covered in crystal, but beyond that, he was in pretty good shape. Well—as good as one could be fighting monsters. Eren couldn’t help but wonder at the ankle—not to mention the man’s stance, now that he had a chance to think about it more.

Had he been in battle? Had he been trying to save someone like Petra had inferred?

Eren decided he would ask sometime.

He was in the room with him, anyway, having pulled up one of the comfy chairs by the window right next to the edge of the bed. Now that Levi was strapped down, the guards were gone, and even though the nurse assigned to him said he shouldn’t stress his stitches, he _refused_ to leave.

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t after seeing the emotions that had rushed into Levi’s eyes.

Eren wouldn’t let him wake up _alone_ like that again—not that he was much of a substitute, but Hange’s words came to mind.

 _Maybe she’s right. I mean, Lewis—er, Levi—did seem to know me—but he seemed to know Hange, too. Just what the hell is going on with this_?

His gaze—which had been aimlessly on the covered window—turned back down to Levi.

Besides being short—the doctor said he was around _five foot two_ , and Hange had snorted—his eyebrows were thin, and he had black hair with the underside shaved. It was odd-looking, Eren had to admit, grinning slightly. People still sported an undercut, but it was usually all slicked back, not parted down the middle.

When Levi was asleep—well, _out of it_ —he had a more relaxed expression on his face than the dead-pan look Eren had been met with every time.

If he looked at him too much, he might _actually_ start to think he was attractive.

 _That’d be a laugh—an archaeologist crushing on his find. That’s definitely been made into a cheesy movie somewhere—I bet my mom reads romance books with a dumb plot like that_.

His grin widened—but it fell immediately when the quiet, steady beeping of the monitor quickened. It meant Levi was waking up.

Eren felt his shoulders go stiff as he watched him. There was some shifting—arms pulling weakly against their confines, some squirming from his legs under the sheets—then his eyes opened— _quickly_ , suddenly. Eren felt like an idiot for flinching.

Levi’s head slowly turned towards him. He was squinting drowsily.

Eren didn’t know what it was like to come out of after being sedated like that, but he was sure it wasn’t too fucking great.

“. . . Nren?”

His chest tightened, and he said nothing, watching in silence as realization flashed across Levi’s face, dulling the look in his eyes.

“ _Eren_.”

Eren nodded, and for the first time, his name sounded like a one-word sentence to _death_. His name had been said a lot of different ways—with love, in anger, hate—but in Levi’s voice, it was like he was the synonym for the end of the world.

The man exhaled slowly, and Eren could see him struggling slightly against the bonds.

It was painful in a very human way, and he looked down, fiddling with the edge of the sheets like a child instead of a twenty-three year old—not that there was any _mature way_ that a twenty-three year old fiddled with fabric.

He would have called Hange back in, but she wasn’t at the hospital at the moment—something about preparing the world for the “greatest find in the _history_ of archaeology!”. Eren wanted to be just as enthusiastic, but it was hard considering the consequences. Was it really worth it with people dead? That didn't seem right—hell, the whole thing stunk.

“Eren?”

Levi’s voice was rather quiet— _unsure_. It seemed unnatural coming from him for some reason, but Eren looked up anyway.

“—balnem?” he tried, grey eyes searching— _agitated_ while his face remained impassive.

Fuck this.

“ _Uhm_ —”

Suddenly, it hit him—

Hange had left her translating journal for him.

Thank god—or _Hange_ , really.

He quickly leaned over, snatching it off the small table next to Levi’s bed and flipping through it furiously. He found the alphabet on page five, with the letters that translated to their own underneath. Could he actually do this _competently_? It wasn’t like Levi could write anything at the moment, being bound to the bed like that.

He eyed the straps for a moment.

 _Well—it’s not like I can get into that much trouble_.

He would have to un-strap him.

Eren moved closer to the bed again, slowly. Levi was watching him, and Eren could see just how _taut_ the man’s muscles were pulled.

 _Geez, does he ever relax_?

Hesitantly, he placed a hand on Levi’s shoulder. He expected it to stiffen even more, but he was pleasantly surprised when it instantly relaxed, a small noise passing through Levi’s lips. His eyes met the other’s— _anxious_ — _trust_.

Why did he trust him?

The straps, though tight, were easy to undo once he figured out the stupid safety measures. Levi sat up almost immediately, rubbing his arms. Eren eyed him warily, however, reaching deliberately at the end of the bed for the pen that was left for the clipboard there. His eyes didn’t leave him entirely as he flipped through the journal for a blank page.

Could he return that trust?

“—here,” he said after a moment, nudging Levi’s arm with the pen and journal.

Levi stared at the two objects—stared at him—then took them, scribbling quietly before he handed both back to Eren.

Levi’s handwriting was a large and messy, but Eren flipped back to the translating page, marking with the pen above each word.

“’I need to piss’,” he read aloud, squinting at his own pathetic excuse for handwriting.

 _Oh. Wow_.

He shouldn’t be this damn excited, but he _was_ , and he couldn’t help grinning again, even when Levi’s brow rose a tad. It really wasn’t anything to grin at—the man had to use the restroom, _big deal_ —but he was _communicating_ with him—actually communicating with someone _hundreds_ of years old.

He definitely had an archaeologist boner.

It was a long process, but Eren scribbled back a reply under Levi’s sentence, reading it out loud to himself.

“’I’ll have to undo the straps on your legs and remove the wires connected to you’,” he murmured as he wrote, chewing his lower lip as he flipped back and forth. “—‘please do not fight or act out’.”

He underlined the "please".

Levi snatched it from him when he set the pen aside, and Eren grunted indignantly.

 _What a rude guy_.

At least he was nodding in agreement. He could see Levi’s hips were _really_ starting to fidget now as he fiddled with the straps on his legs. The latches were special—Eren doubted he recognized them, not the mention his fingers were a bit clumsy at the moment.

“Slow down,” Eren found himself muttering, but he un-did them as fast as he could, starting in protest as Levi slid off the bed instantly, making the machine deadline before Eren quickly fumbled to shut it off.

The doctor had been right about the ankle—Levi favored one leg over the other, eyes darting to and fro relentlessly.

 _Right—I have to show him the bathroom. It’s like being a preschool teacher_.

Eren stood, grabbing his crutch and all but hopping over to the closed door. He hated hospital bathrooms—they always smelled funny, and the bar next to the toilet creeped him out. He opened the door for Levi, motioning from it to him expectantly, but the man seemed rooted on the spot.

Levi was staring at him again instead of the bathroom, and he looked— _shocked_. His eyes seemed shocked, at least. They were widened a tad.

Eren felt his face warm a bit. Were shorts too revealing or something? It wasn’t like _Levi_ was fairing any better—the hospital gown didn’t have a back, and if Eren wanted to, he could easily sneak a look at his ass.

The point was, however, that he _didn’t_.

Finally, Levi moved into the small bathroom, eyeing the toilet suspiciously. Eren realized it was probably a pretty big step-up from a wooden seat with no plumbing, and he lingered for a moment. Was Levi going to have trouble with this?

Levi was turned to look at him now, the question written on his features obvious.

Eren offered a tentative nod.

When Levi started raising his gown without warning, he slammed the door shut.

“Fuck— _decency_ is going t'be a problem,” he breathed.

Maybe he was laughing. _Maybe_.

The sound of pissing—quiet—and then a light knock on the door. 

Eren slowly opened it—Levi didn’t have his gown up at least, just standing awkwardly in the doorway, looking small. Eren tried to offer a smile as he side-stepped around him, flushing. He felt like a mom, but leaving smelly piss around wasn’t exactly what he had in mind if he was going to be spending a lot of time in that hospital room. 

The flinch that overtook Levi at the sound of the flushing was admittedly _hilarious_. He took a step back, eyes darting rapidly from Eren and the toilet. 

_Shit, I’ll explain that later. He needs to wash his hands first_.

Levi didn’t move when Eren motioned him closer to the sink. Irritated, Eren leaned forward from the crutch, grabbing Levi’s wrist and yanking him in front of the basin—feeling bad when he stumbled. The man seemed surprised enough to stay put at least, and Eren demonstrated the sink for him—turned the faucet on, got some soap, scrubbed, rinsed—the whole nine yards.

Although he seemed increasingly uncomfortable, Levi mimicked him, squinting at the faucet the whole time, making the grin on Eren's face re-appear.

Then he had to remind himself _not_ to look at his ass.

When the whole ordeal was done, the man was out of the bathroom faster than Eren had a chance to offer Levi a towel. When he peered out of the room, Levi was drying his hands on the hospital bed’s sheets before climbing back in. Eren took his seat in the chair again.

 _Silence_.

Even though he had pissed and everything, Levi still looked incredibly out of place, gaze constantly moving between everything in the room. It was like he couldn’t relax, and Eren was momentarily glad he had closed the shades before Levi woke up. Seeing the city might be too much.

He just wanted him to relax. It was strangely painful to see Levi so high-strung.

Slowly, he leaned forward, lightly tapping the man’s bare thigh.

Levi’s eyes met his instantly, and Eren offered a smile—one of the ones his mother would always get _so happy about_ —it could make even Mikasa’s moot expression lift. He had to admit he was _damn proud_ of it.

He felt especially so when the anxious expression on Levi’s face slowly melted away, and even though the slate remained blank, there was a serene quality with the way Levi regarded him. He didn’t even realize Levi had his hand till he was squeezing it tightly, and the serene expression became tense.

Grey eyes spoke _loss_ —loss that seemed to somehow related to Eren.

Levi had threaded their fingers together by now—it was an odd motion, like each digit was searching for something between Eren’s. This wasn’t good— _this was bad_ , because whoever it was that Eren looked like seemed to mean a ton to the other.

It was sad. Not “sad” like some stupid story, but _really_ , _actually_ sad.

Eren found himself squeezing Levi’s hand back.

 _This guy has nothing left. Nothing. His whole world is gone—everyone he knew is fucking dead. He doesn’t have a single damn person_.

Wet. Something wet trickling down his cheek and splashing on their fingers.

Levi seemed startled, blinking and staring at him almost owlishly.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Eren breathed, his free hand quickly coming up and rubbed his face viciously. “ _Damn_ it.”

They kept falling— _the tears_ , no matter how many times he dragged his palm over his face. He felt like a damn _kid_ crying like this—a stupid kid that had finally realized some truth about the world that was suddenly irreversible.

He _tried_ to laugh—to _chuckle_ and lighten the mood, but it seemed like everything was all finally catching up with him all at once, and the laugh came out shakily. It was all he could do to rest his forehead down on their clenched hands. Levi was completely still—hadn’t moved, hadn’t made a sound, but Eren, at the moment, _didn’t care_ , didn’t notice.

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” he exhaled—voice hoarse. He felt stupid, but the tears kept on coming, because it was _him_ that had taken Levi into this cruel reality.

“—I’m _sorry_ you have t’be here all _alone_.”


	5. STAND BACK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > " _I will tell you a little secret about archaeologists, dear Reader. They all pretend to be very high-minded. They claim that their sole aim in excavation is to uncover the mysteries of the past and add to the store of human knowledge. They lie. What they really want is a spectacular discovery, so they can get their names in the newspapers and inspire envy and hatred in the hearts of their rivals._ " — **Elizabeth Peters**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> while the song didn't really inspire this chapter, I was still thinking about it nonetheless as I wrote it, so - I encourage you to [listen to](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=khCCbOR8Fe8) Stevie Nicks' "Stand Back". comments and kudos appreciated.

It was weird to wake up to music again.

The only difference from before was that he recognized the singer. Stevie Nicks was his mom’s _favorite_ , so it wasn’t easy to forget when every childhood car-ride memory had “The Edge of Seventeen” playing in the background, or the soft humming of “Room’s on Fire” down a stretch of highway.

> _If anyone falls in love. . ._

It was soothing, and Eren wanted nothing more than to drift away again into the darkness. He could envision it perfectly behind his lids—the car was dark except for the lights glowing from the dashboard. He could feel the vibrations of the engine reverberating into the seat and see the outline of his mom’s head and shoulders from the headlights of a car that zoomed past. 

> _. . .somewhere in the twilight, dreams right, somewhere in the back of your mind. . ._

It wasn’t a silent ride—he could hear her singing one of her favorite songs. Eren would often argue that _all_ of Stevie’s songs were her favorite so it was stupid to try and insist that only one was, but she would only smile widely down at him and say that he was a very perceptive _and_ rude little boy. 

> _If anyone falls in love, it will be done to us. . ._

_This_ song, however—she was damn adamant about this one. He couldn’t remember the name, but the words were familiar, and his mom’s voice mixed in with that of the singer’s—he couldn’t tell them apart anymore.

Something was shifting against his cheek.

One eye slowly opened, squinting through the soreness of his lids.

 _Geez, did I cry again or something_?

Both eyes finally opened, and he found himself staring at the end of a hospital bed. He wasn’t on it—the ache in his back from sitting in the chair was proof enough, and his brow furrowed, blinking away any bit of sleep left when he felt the shift again.

One irritated groan later, and he slowly lifted his head, staring down at what had served as his pillow. It was his own hand—with someone _else_ ’s fingers wound through his.

 _Levi_.

That was right—he was in Levi’s hospital room.

He had fallen asleep crying like some idiot.

His eyes darted to Levi. The man wasn’t asleep like Eren had been. He wasn’t looking at him, either—his gaze was fixated on something next to the bed. Eren followed it, and found himself staring at an old, portable radio with the antenna stretched out as far as it would go from its place on the small table. It was where the music was coming from.

Eren looked at Levi, and found a smile threatening to pull the corners of his mouth up.

Levi was watching the little radio intently, thin eyebrows pulled together just slightly and seemingly oblivious to the fact that Eren was staring at him.

 _Hey, maybe Levi’s a secret Stevie Nicks fan. He and my mom could hit it off_.

“ _Oh_! You’re awake?”

Eren jerked his head around—cringing when his neck popped violently, bringing his free hand up to rub away the soreness. His eyes met the gaze of one of the nurses—an elderly lady in pink scrubs and grey hair tied on low pigtails. She was smiling gently—like most old people did—holding a clipboard in one hand.

“I’m sorry if I startled you, dear. I’m just here to get the vitals from our little patient.”

She seemed nice, at least, and Eren found himself smiling just a tad. Old people were a lot better than kids—ten times better than people his own age. 

_I’m definitely a loser_.

“S’okay,” he muttered—a bit sheepish at how violently he had reacted. “—are— _uh_ , you th’one that brought the radio?”

She nodded. “Yes! I hope that was okay. It was _awfully_ quiet when I came in! I thought the both of you were sleeping, so you can imagine how much it startled me when your friend here poked his head up from the pillow!” she laughed, motioning with her pen to Levi, who had abandoned looking at the radio in favor of watching them.

Eren couldn’t help grinning. That meant Levi had slept for a little while, even if he had been awake and sitting up when Eren had finally stirred.

The lady was moving around the room now, bringing up the glasses resting around her neck and squinting at the monitors. Levi was hooked up to them again, but he wasn’t strapped down. Had he done it himself? Or had he allowed the lady to do it?

“Did Levi cause any trouble when y’had to hook him up?” Eren asked quietly.

“Not at all. The poor dear seemed very confused, but he let me re-connect him to the machine. I wonder why it was turned off,” she hummed, looking over her shoulder at him. Eren shoulders hunched slightly.

“Yeah, I—sorry, he had to go t’the bathroom, so—”

“It’s quite alright, honey. Try pressing the red button for assistance next time, though, if you would.”

“. . .thanks for not strapping him down too, miss—?”

“ _Oh_ , hush, no ‘miss’ for an old gal like myself—just call me ‘Mina’.”

Eren was smiling again despite himself. “— _Mina_. I’m Eren.”

Mina gave an approving hum, scribbling on the paper connected to her clipboard before she replied. “Well, don’t paint me as too much of a saint, Eren, dear. I did try to put the straps back on, but he refused to let go of your hand!”

He blinked, looking down at their intertwined hands. Levi’s fingers were still gripping his rather _tightly_ , though the man’s expression hinted nothing of the fact, as blank as ever when Eren glanced up.

 _Why was he so stubborn about that? Man—I’m pretty sure Mom was lying when she said I was perceptive—I’ve got no clue what this is about_.

Eren couldn’t help but wonder if the nurse—Mina—knew exactly why Levi had been so confused, or why he needed to be strapped down. Hange _obviously_ hadn’t made an appearance yet, so that could mean she was either out telling the world about her latest find or still keeping it under wraps. Eren felt oddly nauseated about letting the world know. Sure, it happened in a _million_ movies with a _million_ thawed cavemen—hell, even Scooby-Doo had covered it in the sixties and the seventies—but that was cinema and television. This was _real life_ crap—a _real-life_ man from hundreds of years ago. A million movies couldn’t prepare anyone for that—not even the thousands of fainting actresses that would ultimately fall for them.

Would there be calls for experimentation? Hippies protesting in the streets to free him from “the Man”?

“ _Well_!” Mina’s sudden voice startled him slightly, and he looked over at her. “I’m going to be right back with lunch for the two of you. Is there anything you want?”

His mind went blank. 

“I duh’know—just whatever’s fine.”

“And your friend?”

Eren felt a bit panicked, unconsciously squeezing Levi’s hand until she croaked a laugh.

“I was just kidding, honey. Even a meager nurse like myself is aware of the situation. How does some subs and chips sound?”

They both laughed—though Eren’s was _far_ tenser than Mina’s, and he said that sandwiches would work out fine. She left with a soft “click” from the door as it shut behind her, and he found himself sitting in silence alone with Levi again.

“ _Eren_ ,” Levi insisted after a moment, motioning to the journal on the little table.

Blinking slightly, Eren carefully peeled his hand from Levi’s and scooted his chair over to the table to grab the journal, scooting it back and taking the pen from the clipboard Mina had left for the doctor.

Levi didn’t even give him a chance to flip to a blank page, grabbing the journal and opening it at random, instantly bending over to write. Eren slid forward till he was on the edge of his seat, chin lifting to peer over Levi’s fast-moving hand.

When Eren was handed it back and he finished translating, it read—

 **What’s with the noise coming out from the box**?

He huffed a soft laugh, and quickly wrote back—

 **It’s called a radio. The noise is transmitted through sound waves in the air. That’s what the metal stick is for. It receives waves and then transforms it into noise that we can hear**.

Admittedly, as Eren’s brow furrowed at his explanation. He hoped his explanation was enough, and it seemed to be as Levi looked back and forth from the journal to the radio, grey eyes only hinting a small bit of confusion. Eren snatched the journal back again—ignoring the slight glare he received.

 _Hell, if he’s going to be so rough with this, I’m going t’be too_.

He scribbled down something quick below what he had written.

 **Do you like it**? 

Levi seemed— _hesitant_ to reply, but a second later, Eren had the journal back.

 **I guess. Is it music**?

Eren translated, then nodded as he wrote.

 **Yeah. The singer’s name is Stevie Nicks. She’s my mom’s favorite. You had music back then, didn’t you**?

The other seemed confused as he read Eren’s response, thin lips’ corners pulled down just a tad. A minute passed as Levi stared down at the journal, and Eren shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Had he written something wrong? He was about to reach for it again when Levi suddenly started writing, shoving it back.

 **Somewhat. There wasn’t a lot. What’s your mother like**?

That was a weird question. Why did Levi want to know about his mom?

 **She’s nice. She likes baking different kinds of bread**.

Levi didn’t seem content with that, pen pressing particularly hard on the page when he wrote back.

 **She’s alive, then**?

The question was creepy— _damn creepy_ , and Eren eyed Levi for a moment.

 **Yeah. Why wouldn’t she be**?

Levi didn’t write back this time—he just shook his head sharply and looked away.

 _Weird_ —but it seemed like he was done talking. Eren put the journal back by the radio, exhaling quietly. If he didn’t know any better, it almost seemed like Levi was _relieved_ , but it wouldn’t make any sense for the man to be relieved over something like that. 

_It isn’t like there’s any reason for him to think my mom is dead_.

The door burst open all of the sudden—Mina came hurrying in, hand over her chest and breathing rapidly. Eren stood up instantly, limping over to her as fast as he could, uneasiness making his chest clench.

“— _Mina_ —what’s wrong?”

“I—I tried to tell them to leave, the _vultures_ —that the patient needed rest couldn’t be exposed to anything, but they didn’t listen—”

“ _Who_? What th’hell are you talking about?”

It was then that Eren could hear voices down the hall— _hurried_ footsteps drawing closer.

“ _Reporters_ ,” Mina hissed in a low tone. “Dozens of them, with cameras and everything, honey—they went so fast through the lobby that I’m afraid no one could stop them, and it was all I could do to hurry over here and warn the both of you!”

Eren’s eyes went instantly to Levi, who was half-raised from the bed, apprehension evident by his suddenly stiff posture. His eyes met Eren’s.

 _The guy has no idea what’s about to happen_.

He turned back to Mina. 

“Is there a lock on this door? _Or_ —”

“No, I’m afraid not! The head of the hospital decided it was a hazard if patients had the ability to lock their doors—”

“ _Damn it_!” he snapped, carding a few fingers through his hair and tugging at the strands.

The clamoring voices were really close now.

“Go ahead an’ leave, Mina.”

“ _Oh_ , but—”

“Look, I don’t want you to get trampled or something, okay?”

She nodded mutely, the wrinkles by her eyes tensing before she hurried out the door.

 _Damn. Damn it all. I’m not ready to face any of these people—Levi isn’t ready t’face any of them! He doesn’t even get how a stupid radio works_!

“Eren?”

He turned around at the sound of his name. Levi’s legs were dangling over the edge of the bed, and he looked about ready to hop down, uncertainty evident in the tones of his voice. Eren hurried back over, motioning frantically for Levi to get back on the bed—even grabbing his ankles.

Levi didn’t seem to appreciate the gesture, but Eren easily dodged the foot kicked in his direction.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed, looking from the bed to the open door. There was no sense in closing it. “Levi?”

Levi looked up at him. What could he say? How could he explain what was about to happen?

He didn’t have a _chance_.

Voices _exploded_ into the room—a _million_ questions filled the air, along with what seemed to be a _million people_ all filing in. Lights were flashing in a dozen places from various cameras, and cameramen with large ones propped on their shoulder meant this was live. 

_Live_.

Fuck _that_.

Eren felt frozen—there were _too many_ lights and too many people all yammering at once.

“Are you mister Jaeger?” one called.

“Tell us—what does it feel like to be a part of one of the biggest moments in history?” another chimed in.

“Does the man have any weird growths? Is he still human after spending _hundreds_ of years trapped inside the titan crystal?” someone shouted.

“Can he speak with us? What secrets have you learned about the Wall Age so far?”

“Is it _true_ that your whole dig team died rescuing him?”

“Can he answer any of our questions? Does he speak our language?”

“What of the second crystal that you and top expert Hange Zoe discovered alongside him?”

“ _Mister Jaeger_ —”

Eren felt like his throat was clogged. He needed to yell at them to _get out_ , to leave them _alone_ and come back another time—his limbs were just as useless as his mouth, however, and the only thing that brought him out of his flash-filled haze were several yanks on his arm and Levi _shouting_ at him.

 _Levi_.

“ _Eren_! Quod die _lucida_ est omnes dieses?” he was shouting—it seemed like he had forgotten that Eren couldn’t understand a word. He had an arm draped over his eyes and his free hand clenched around Eren’s wrist, _pulling_ on him.

His hand was sweaty.

Eren finally made himself move—two steps to the right, in front of Levi. It wasn’t much, but Eren was determined—he was going to _protect_ him from this, shield him. The voices intensified in protest, becoming more garbled and indistinguishable. He thought they might at least keep their distance, but he was wrong—

Three of them moved forward the moment he stepped in front of Levi.

“ _Hey_! You’re in his shot!” one snapped. “Wait your turn! Plenty of limelight!”

It was then Eren found a bit of his voice.

“ _Fuck off_!” he croaked back, feeling the hand on his wrist tighten. “He can’t answer any of your questions, an’ neither can I—so _fuck_ off!”

“Just get out of the way, kid! I need t’stand next to him so my cameraman can start recording!”

“ _No_! And I’m not a damn _kid_! I’m—”

 _Another time, another place, Eren_.

He felt hands on his shoulders, pulling him forward. Levi’s grip became like steel as Eren wriggled his shoulders against the pull of the reporters, but the fight was cut short with one particularly hard yank. There was a distinct throb from his thigh, and the floor approaching _quickly_.

“— _shit_!”

It _hurt_ , to say the least. It usually did when he fell on the floor, but his thigh was still throbbing, and it was all he could do to focus on it while he sat on his ass, teeth clenched till his gums started to protest.

Suddenly, there was silence. Eren looked up from his thigh slowly.

One reporter was holding her hands over her nose, and Eren could see droplets of blood between her fingers. The rest seemed stunned, mouths half-open in mid-question and hands with mics still extended.

Levi was up on his knees on the bed, one hand raised slightly, _clenched_ into a fist. He was breathing surprisingly hard. Eren might have laughed at how ridiculous it looked with Levi in the hospital gown, but there was something about Levi’s absent expression that made the situation humorless. 

_His eyes are anxious again_.

“—Eren!”

He whipped his head around at the sound of his name. At first, he didn’t see anyone, but the group of reporters shifted as Hange pushed her way through. She wasn’t _alone_ , either—

 _Erwin Smith_ was walking calmly behind her.

 _The guy sure has a way of making an entrance, at least_.

Hange immediately hurried over to him, hooking her arms under his and lifting him up with a grunt. 

“Are you okay?” she gushed as Eren leaned back against the edge of the hospital bed.

“Yeah— _yeah_ , I am,” he mumbled, distracted— _distracted_ by the gaze Erwin Smith had settled on him.

Everyone was still silent, as if the man’s presence wordlessly demanded it.

Erwin Smith, the guy who would fund anything and everything that had to do with the Wall Age. He owned countless museums and countless artifacts—he was in charge of _the most_ sought after team of Wall Age historians on the planet. The guy oversaw everything related to it—especially his company, “Breaking Walls”, which Eren and his dad worked for.

When Eren glanced over, he could see Levi was staring just as much as he was.

“Well,” Erwin’s voice cut through the silence easily, “the hundreds of years-old man—and mister Jaeger’s son. How are you, Eren?”

It wasn’t until Hange nudged his shoulder that Eren remembered he had to reply.

“ _Uhm_ —I’m good— _sir_.”

“That’s good. How is my artifact doing?” Erwin smiled politely, head tilting in Levi’s direction.

It seemed to be a joke, and Eren forced a smile on his face. 

_Got’a please the boss and all_.

“He’s, _uh_ —doing good, sir. We— _he_ , I mean—was just about t’have lunch.”

“I see. It seems he’s been a bit violent with this reporter.”

Eren had almost forgotten about the woman with the bloody nose. She dipped her head when Erwin mentioned her, backing away, standing closer to the main group.

“They were being really pushy, mister Smith,” Eren hurriedly explained, taking a small step closer to where Levi was, still on his knees, gaze fixated on Erwin. “—it was too _overwhelming_ for Levi, I think, and—”

Erwin held up a hand, the smile fading. “It’s fine, Eren. I know how determined reporters can be.”

At this, hushed whispering broke out from the group of people. Erwin turned, clearing his throat to address them.

“I will answer _three_ questions, then you all must leave. I haven’t prepared this artifact for the public quite yet.”

The woman with the bloody nose instantly raised her hand, and Erwin nodded to her.

“When are y’plannig to introduce the man properly to th’public?” she asked—voice slightly muffled from the hand over her nose.

“No later than a week and a half.”

 _A week and a half? What the hell is he thinking? There’s no way Levi could be prepared to face the world by then_!

“When are funerals being held for those who died when the cavern collapsed?” another asked—male this time.

“I’m afraid to say I don’t know. I’m not involved in that.”

“—what about the credit for this discovery? Where is it going?” someone interjected.

“There are several people to whom it belongs to. It will be revealed during the conference. _Now_ —all of you must leave. Thank you for your questions.”

 _Hesitance_ —then the group slowly filtered out till the only people in the room were Erwin, Hange, Levi, and himself.

“— _phew_!” Hange breathed, sagging into Eren’s chair. “—thought those crazies would never leave!”

“I’ll say,” Eren muttered. He turned his attention to Levi. The man wasn’t staring at Erwin anymore, but he was still breathing rather heavily. Eren paused—then nudged Levi’s closed fist with the tips of his fingers. The other’s hand relaxed slowly before he grabbed Eren’s, settling back down on the bed.

Eren gave him a tight smile. Erwin cleared his throat, and he felt his face heat slightly, jerking his hand back to his side and moving to face Erwin, ignoring Levi’s disgruntled huff.

 _God, that’s embarrassing. It’s like getting frisky with someone in the workplace when the boss walks in_.

“It seems he’s a bit taken with you,” Erwin mused.

“It’s just ‘cause I look like someone he used to know,” he quickly explained, ignoring Hange’s well-placed snicker beside him.

“I think you’ll be perfect, then.”

“—perfect for what?”

“Perfect to help prepare him,” Erwin began. “The world is on the edge of their seats, Eren. This hasn’t happened once in the history of archaeology—just imagine the excitement when the Valley of the Kings was discovered in Egypt, and times that by ten. Everyone is going to want to talk to him—presidents, courts, royalty. He is our _only_ chance to get the truth—the _right_ information.”

“ _But_ —” he started—clamping his mouth shut when Erwin’s eyes moved sharply to him. One eyebrow raised, and Eren forced himself to continue. “—that can’t be enough time. I mean—th’guy’s in a completely different world now. I don’t even think he realizes there aren’t any more titans!”

“I understand.” For some reason, Eren felt like he didn’t. “It’s delicate work handling a freshly uncovered artifact.”

 _You make it sound like he’s a thing_.

“However—time can’t be wasted. The world's time can’t be wasted.”

 _What are you so eager to know_?

“You have one week with him here in the hospital. Acquaint him with what you can, but that isn’t a requirement, just helpful. Make sure he eats. My historians and professors will be meeting with him once a day starting tomorrow. I trust Hange found a means of communication?”

Eren nodded mutely. He felt funny, deep in the pits of his stomach.

 _This is wrong. Something’s wrong_.

“Good work. You won’t be present when my people are with him, so consider that two hours to yourself. I know this isn’t what you signed up for, Eren, but I hope you won’t mind. It’ll only be a week, and then I will be taking him.”

Eren didn’t mind—but he did mind the last part.

“—what about th’half that you told reporters?” he asked quietly.

“That will be for him adjusting to whatever facilities _I_ offer at the time. You will be able to go out and work in the dig sites again. I’m sure you’re happy about that.” Erwin then smiled, and Eren forced himself to smile back again.

“—yeah.”

“Good. _Now_ , I have some meetings to attend to, so I’ll be taking my leave. Remember—he isn’t allowed to leave this room.”

Eren felt like everything inside him dropped to the floor.

“ _Wait_ —mister Smith—why not? Mister Smith—”

“Mister Smith” was already gone out the door. Hange stood up, stretching and making obnoxiously loud noises, slapping Eren on the back.

“ _So_! Eren, my man, how d’you feel after talking to the head honcho?”

He looked down at his feet.

“Okay—I think. Hange?”

“ _Mm_?”

“. . .do you trust mister Smith?”

Hange was silent for a moment. Eren couldn’t describe the expression on her face then, even if he _tried_ —she just stared at him, head tilted slightly. Suddenly, she pinched one of his cheeks, pulling viciously.

“ _Ow_! Hawngey—”

“You worry too much, kiddo!” she chirped, moving his cheek around with a large grin. “Erwin’s a fine guy. His heart’s in the right place, so don’t you worry your messy little head!”

 _What was that supposed to mean_?

###### . . .

“How are you feeling, dear? Those stitches doing okay?”

Eren nodded at Mina’s question, shrugging.

“I think so. My thigh just throbs more now and then.”

After Erwin and Hange left, Mina had come back with their food. She insisted that Eren climb into the bed with Levi so that he could rest his leg better. Levi didn’t seem to mind—he moved over wordlessly when Eren hoisted himself up. It was _awkward_ , to say the least, but the bed was large enough for two. It was still cozy—in a good way.

The food smelled delicious, and he was pretty sure his mouth was watering before she set the plate down on his tray. He grabbed the subway sandwich after a hurried “thank you” and all but shoved it into his mouth. Levi’s response was less— _expressive_ besides a rather pointed look at him. He simply stared at his plate of food, even after Mina had left.

It was kind of worrying. Levi had been pretty unresponsive after the whole thing. 

Eren nudged his shoulder with his elbow, earning a small frown. He motioned to Levi, and then the plate of food, nodding vehemently as he chewed. He could have sworn he heard Levi sigh, but the man picked up his sandwich, giving it a slight sniff before taking a bite.

The expression that came over his face made Eren almost _blow_ his food out his nose.

Levi’s brows furrowed _instantly_ , nose pulling up and jaw tensing with such _intensity_ that Eren could see his cheeks clench around the mouthful of food.

 _It’s probably a lot of flavor compared to hundreds of years ago. Either way, it’s damn hilarious. I wish I had my camera_.

Slowly— _ever_ so slowly—the man started chewing, face twitching a bit when he swallowed. It took every bit of Eren’s strength not to cough up his food from trying not to laugh, but it was pretty _obvious_ anyway, as his whole body was quaking something terrible and making the bed move along with it.

Levi’s hand moved for the drink Mina had brought—even though she complained it wasn’t very healthy, Eren had insisted she get soda from the vending machines in the lobby.

When Levi couldn’t figure out how to open it, Eren finally swallowed his bite, setting his sandwich down and lifting the tab for him. Levi made a face at the low hiss, and Eren snickered slightly, nudging the can towards him. A second passed where Levi didn’t move, but he finally gripped the can, bringing it to his lips and taking a surprisingly large gulp.

If Eren had thought him eating the sandwich was funny, Levi and soda was a _thousand times_ more hilarious.

The other slammed down the can hard enough that the dark liquid sloshed out of the opening and onto the tray as he slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide and _tearing_ up. Eren—grinning like a madman—watched attentively as Levi swallowed loudly, nose seemingly permanently wrinkled.

 _Carbonation is a blessing_.

Eren received a hard punch to his arm when Levi finally noticed him silently laughing, but that didn’t deter the shakes, and finally, Eren was laughing out loud—laughing at the annoyed expression on Levi’s face—laughing through the _pain_ as his arm was punched repeatedly. 

“ _Damn_ ,” he breathed, running a finger under one of his eyes. “—this is _too_ funny. Even _Mikasa_ would laugh.”

Levi, who obviously had no idea what he had said, just gave him an icy look—but Eren swore he could see just the hints of a _smile_ in his eyes through the watering.

However, the fun and games didn’t last long.

About ten minutes after they had finished eating and Mina came and went their plates and trays, Levi scrambled off the bed all of the sudden, darting into the bathroom. There was silence—then sounds of heavy vomiting, and Eren hurriedly followed— _limped_ , whatever he could manage to get into the small bathroom.

Levi was gripping either side of the toilet, body lurching forward with every retch. Eren cringed—the noises were _disgusting_ , not to mention the obvious chunks of sandwich, but he rushed over anyway, squatting down next to him.

It lasted about five minutes—Levi gripping the toilet seat so tightly that his knuckles were white, and Eren tentatively rubbing his bare back with one hand, staring aimlessly at the wall behind the toilet. It was hard to be around someone throwing up—he sure as hell didn’t want to start to, but he wasn’t an asshole—he didn’t feel like leaving him to do it _alone_.

When it was all finally over, Levi was breathing hard, resting his forehead on the seat. Eren still moved his hand in slow circles around the man’s upper back. He could feel everything—the bumps of his spine, the scars—even the fading indents from the leather straps they had taken off of him.

He didn’t protest against Eren’s hand, at least.

As he got braver with his movements, Eren leaned back slightly to sneak a look.

It was a heavy reminder—the red skin, the scarring. This wasn’t just some guy he was sharing a hospital room with—this was a _survivor_. 

It was disheartening when Eren realized that the man wasn’t done surviving just yet.

“Levi?”

A low grunt, then he slowly lifted his head from the seat.

“I’ll get Mina t’bring you some water,” Eren murmured—more to himself than Levi, giving his shoulder a squeeze before standing.

Levi gripped his hand all of the sudden—expressionless, but eyes peering fervently into his. Eren could only stare back wordlessly, stunned. A minute passed. Levi’s grip tightened, then he let go, eyes lowering.

 _That was weird_.

Mina came two minutes after he pressed the button and asked for water.

“Oh, the poor dear! I should have realized the food might be upsetting for his old stomach.”

“It’s okay—I think it was probably my fault,” Eren admitted, instantly thinking to the soda.

He felt bad. The adjustment was going to be harder than he had thought—Levi probably couldn’t stomach the artificial flavorings and everything yet. It sucked, and the thought sounded incredibly miserable.

Eren offered Levi a hand to help him up from the floor—he expected him to take it right away, but was surprised when Levi ignored it, gripping the toilet and pushing himself up without looking _once_ at Eren. He still didn’t look at him when he made his way to the bed and crawled onto it.

Eren looked away only to avoid getting mooned.

 _What’s wrong now_?

Even though Mina offered the glass of water to him, Levi refused that too. He lay with his back facing the both of them, silent except for the sound of his breathing. Eren thanked her anyway, and when she left again, he pulled himself up onto the bed, noting the way Levi’s shoulders tensed when he did.

The radio was playing Stevie Nicks again. Eren remembered the name of the song this time—“Stand Back”.

> _. . .maybe your attention was more than you could do. . ._

He grabbed the journal from the small table, writing—

 **You okay**?

> _he asked for my love, and that was all. . ._

When he tapped Levi’s shoulder with it, the man shifted slightly, and Eren held up the journal for him to read.

Levi didn’t move to write back. His eyes slid from the journal to Eren, staying on him for a long moment, before turning to face away again.

> _why don’t you take me home? . . . why don’t you take me home?_

Eren didn’t need him to write an answer anymore. He knew.

Maybe he was a little more perceptive than he gave himself credit for.


	6. WALLS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > " _He was not trained in conservation—he was, after all, no more than an archaeologist—a digger!_ " — **Penelope Fitzgerald**.  
> 
> 
> DAY ONE OF SEVEN. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos appreciated. I love hearing from all of you.

“You were on the news, you know.”

Mikasa’s voice was fairly even considering the statement—Eren could only detect just the slightest sigh from the way the phone crackled in his ear.

“Yeah, I know,” he murmured. “They kind of just let themselves in. There wasn’t much I could do till mister Smith arrived.”

“I saw. He answered those questions and then made them all leave.” The worry was seeping into her voice now. “How’s your leg? With the stitches? I wanted to kill them when I saw you go down.”

Embarrassment made his cheeks warm. It was hard to forget that he had fallen on _national_ television—especially when it was on every crappy news channel in the _world_ that valued their ratings. They had managed to get the whole thing—walking down the hall, going into the room—Eren watched it only to see the moment when Levi punched the reporter since he had been _unlucky_ enough to miss it. It was great—the second he had hit the floor, Levi had pushed himself up and swung _hard_.

 _And the rest is history_.

Eren grinned slightly.

“My leg’s fine. Y’know I’m a fast healer, Mikasa. I didn’t even feel like limping anymore this morning.”

This time, she sighed out loud. “I know. That doesn’t mean I’m not _allowed_ to worry.”

He changed the subject. “You’ll be dropping my stuff off tomorrow, right? I’m tired of going around in shorts.”

“I am. You wanted two sets of clothes, right? And your crappy laptop?”

“Yeah— _hey_! Don’t crap on it—it might hear you and then crap all over _me_.”

“You need a _new_ one, Eren. Go spend some money for once.”

“No way in hell—as long as it works, I’m not wasting anything.”

“Fine.” Eren could see her rolling her eyes in his head—there was no way she said that word without doing it. “Mom wants to talk to you.”

“You’re home?” he asked in surprise.

“That’s where you usually go when a family member is involved in a tragedy. I’m going to hand the phone to her now.”

“Wait— _wait_ , Mikasa—”

He could hear the shuffling—muted voices, crackling noises. He exhaled quietly, leaning against the wall across from the door that led into Levi’s hospital room. It wasn’t like he _didn’t_ want to talk to her, but talking to a parent after something bad had happened usually meant a lot of stifled sobbing and repeats of “are you sure you’re okay?”. 

_I’ve never been good with a lot of that stuff_.

“Eren? _Eren_ , are you there?”

“Yeah—I am, Mom—hey.”

“When are you coming home, dear?” He had to give her credit. She knew he felt uncomfortable with most of the emotional stuff, and her voice only had a _slight_ waver to it. “You know I’m worried about you. I thought my heart had stopped the moment Hange called to let me know what had happened!”

“I know— _I know_ —”

“—I would’ve come to visit you, but the bakery—”

“ _Mom_! It’s okay, really,” he quickly cut in. “I’m _fine_ , but I can’t come home for a week at least. Mister Smith has me taking care of Levi.”

“ _Oh_!” The worried tones disappeared instantly, replaced with _pointed_ interest. “I saw him with you on the news! He sure is a short one, isn’t he?”

Eren’s already growing grin widened considerably, and he bit back a laugh. “—he is. The doctor said he’s five foot _two_ or some shit—”

“ _Eren_!”

“— _crap_ , Mom, y’know I said ‘crap’.”

“ _Right_. You know, he’s quite attractive.”

“ _Mom_!”

“—for someone whose centuries old, his body looks _very_ nice—that little hospital gown didn’t hide much!”

“ _Mom_ —”

“Alright, _alright_ ,” she relented, laughing breathlessly into the phone and making it crackle. “—he’s _all_ yours.”

Eren groaned, shoulders slumping. “Can y’stop that? You make it sound like I’m going t’start _dating_ him or something.”

“Well—the two of you _were_ holding hands when the reporters came in.”

“He was gripping my _wrist_. Anyway, Mom, he’s probably—thirty-four or something.”

“That means I’ve become the most likely candidate again. I’m sorry, dear, I know how much you wanted him. I can feel you _blushing_ through the phone.”

“ _Geez_ — _whatever_ , Mom. Go kiss Dad or something.”

“I’m planning on it.”

“Gross.”

“ _Anyway_ , honey—so we’re talking about a week?”

“Yeah—sorry about that. I might be able to see you when I go out for th’funeral, though.”

She offered a sad hum. Those on the dig team who had died had finally been made public as well as the date for the paired funeral, which was tomorrow. The grieving families were interviewed extensively, and Eren felt _particularly_ relieved that none of them seemed to blame Erwin or Hange. They were just sad, like they should be, and invited everyone to attend in Gunther and Eld’s memory. 

“By the way, Eren—did you hear about missus Leonhardt?”

“No—what about her?”

“She had her baby the day you and Levi were brought in! A _beautiful_ little girl, apparently.”

 _That’s a weird coincidence_.

“Is she still in th’hospital?”

“I _think_ so. That poor woman—giving birth left her really weak, so I believe she and her baby are still there. You should go see them when you’re on one of your breaks again, dear, and offer them our congratulations. They’ve been our neighbors for several years now—such a sweet, young couple. It’ll be nice to have a baby around again!”

“You’re way too eager to replace me an’ Mikasa—I thought you were _glad_ you didn’t have any more diapers t’change.”

As she laughed—Eren offering a stiff chuckle of his own—he found himself glancing down the hall. He would have to figure out which room they were in later. There was something off about the woman giving birth the day he and Levi were wheeled in—if Eren remembered correctly, she wasn’t supposed to be due for another few weeks or so, and—

“— _wait_ , weren’t they expecting a boy?” he asked all of the sudden, brows furrowing.

“Yes, they were—that’s what the doctors told them they were having. It’s so strange! They aren’t usually wrong about that stuff, but at least it was easy for them to switch names.”

“. . .what did they choose?”

“ _Well_ , when it was going to be a boy, they had decided on ‘Andrew’, but now that it’s a girl, they went with ‘Annie’.”

 _Abbie. Annie_.

He definitely needed to ask Levi about who was in the other crystal.

“Eren? You still there? All I can hear is your breathing, sweetheart.”

“ _Uh_ —sorry, still here. Is Dad home?”

“ _Surprisingly enough_ , he is! I’ll give the phone to him now—I love you, honey. I’ll see you at the funeral.”

“Yeah, Mom.”

There was some more shuffling, some more muted voices, and Eren tapped his foot aimlessly against the floor, listening to the echo in the empty hallway and the vague hum of voices every now and then coming from Levi’s room. What were they asking him? And why couldn’t _he_ be present?

The whole thing was bizarre. Maybe his dad would have some answers for him.

“Eren?”

“Dad— _hey_ , how’re you?”

A low chuckle. “I’m well, thank you. I trust you are? Seeing as you were able to fight off all those reporters so wonderfully.”

“ _Dad_ ,” he huffed indignantly—his dad always managed to make him feel like he was _ten_ years old all over again. “—did everyone see that?”

“Besides the entire world? Your friend Armin told me that him and his college buddies recorded it.”

“ _Damn it_.”

“How’s Smith’s most recent artifact?”

“ _Levi_ —his name is _Levi_. I duh’know—he’s in with mister Smith’s people right now.”

“. . .I see.”

 _That was a weird pause_.

“Did they tell you what it is they’re asking him?” his dad continued, voice oddly serious. Maybe he was imagining it.

“No—they won’t even let me be in the room with him. I was kind’a hoping you could tell me what they’re doing—what _Smith_ is doing. There’s something _really_ off about that guy.”

Silence.

“Dad?”

Silence—and then the sound of his dad clearing his throat.

“I’m afraid I don’t have anything to tell you.”

 _Bullshit_. His dad went on.

“I have to go now. Tell Hange I’m sending over the scanned documents if you see her. I also added something to the pile of things Mikasa is bringing you—”

“—what is it?”

“It’s _something_. You’ll know once you get it. I want you to keep it close, alright?”

“C’ _mon_ , Dad, what is this—Indiana Jones? What’re you giving me?”

“Don’t let Smith see it.”

A click—then the tell-tale beeping in his ear that meant the person on the other end had ended the call.

“. . .what the _hell_?” he muttered, bringing his phone from his ear and narrowing his eyes at the screen.

He hadn’t gotten a chance to finish asking his questions—not to mention actually getting some _answers_ to them. It was strange enough that his dad had been home—he rarely was because of the late nights he worked in the lab with whatever they dug up, often staying in a guest room there. Eren hadn’t really minded growing up—he had considered what his dad did to be amazing, like any starry-eyed little kid. As long as he made it home on birthdays and holidays, Eren hadn’t applied much thought to it.

There weren’t any holidays coming up that he could think of—no one’s birthday was near, no anniversaries—

Yet, he was _home_ —just like Erwin was suddenly in the city. Was this all related to Levi?

Eren stood up from leaning against the wall, slipping his phone into the pocket of his shorts. It was weird for the man to suddenly be so secretive—or maybe he just hadn’t noticed it before.

 _Come to think of it, he never really talks about th’documents he rescues—what they say, nothing. Sure, I mean, some of it’s obviously made it into the textbooks, but it’s not the same_.

“Hey—kid!”

Eren looked up quickly—eyes widening when he realized just who it was that had yelled at him.

Oluo.

 _Oluo_.

“Geez—” Oluo puffed as he jogged up to him—his face was slightly red. “I was lookin’ all _over_ for your scrawny butt.”

“I work out,” Eren muttered, before shaking his head sharply. “Forget that—where the _hell_ have you been? Hange was looking for you— _I_ was looking—”

“Will you sha’dup? I _know_ already, brat.”

“Then _why_ didn’t you contact us back?” Eren demanded, feeling his hands clench.

Oluo shrugged, exhaling heavily. “ _Look_ —I had family matters t’attend to and all that shit. Not that I expect a _newbie_ like you t’understand, but I _did_ just lose two friends—”

Eren grimaced when the other bit his tongue.

 _Same old, same old. I don’t even see any marks on him besides a few cuts and bruises_.

“Why are you back? I didn’t expect t'see you before the funeral.”

A moment passed of Oluo nursing his tongue before he mumbled, “I’m back f’ _Petra_ , of course. They finished her surgery today.”

Eren took a quick step forward towards Oluo, bursting out— “Is she awake? How is she doin’?”

“Calm your horses, kid—that’s why I came t’get y’a. She’s _fine_ —” Eren let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “— _but_ they said her lower body’s goin’ to be paralyzed for th’rest of her. . . _well_ , life.”

Eren was sure then that he couldn’t breathe at _all_.

“Are—. . .are you _serious_?” he murmured slowly, gaze falling to the floor. Oluo looked away, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

“You an idiot? I wouldn’t joke ‘bout somethin’ like this,” Oluo finally hissed. “Now—are y’ _coming_ or what?”

Eren stared at him for a moment, blinking.

“What d’you mean?”

Oluo toed the floor for a moment, shoulders hunched awkwardly. “Don’cha want to see her?”

“Oh— _oh_! Yeah!” Eren gushed, quickly pulling his phone out and pressing the home button. The time came up—he still had an hour before he would be needed in Levi’s room again. Shoving it back in, he nodded exuberantly. “Let’s go!”

Oluo chastised him for getting too excited like a “five year-old brat on a sugar high”, but led him down the hall nonetheless. Petra’s room was _surprisingly_ close to Levi’s—certainly not enough time for Eren to prepare himself mentally. He wasn’t sure what to expect—a cast? Bandages everywhere? Would she look very different, or still the same Petra he remembered smiling at him the day he had chosen Levi’s name?

 _Damn it_.

Before he knew it, they were in front of her door, and Oluo was opening it.

He held his breath.

The room was a bit dark, besides the fact that it was late in the afternoon. When Eren squinted, he could see that the shades were drawn, just like in Levi’s room. Tiny lights from various monitors that beeped every now and then were crowded around the bed. At first, it looked like Petra was asleep—her eyes were closed, and her breathing was steady. Eren was stupidly relieved that she didn’t look any different. There was a bandage on her cheek, and she seemed a little pale, but she was still Petra.

He let his breath go.

“ _Hey_ —Petra?” Oluo called tentatively, motioning for Eren to follow him into the room after he closed the door behind them.

Her eyes opened slowly, head tilting in their direction. A large smile came across her face, and Eren found the tension in his limbs relaxing, flashing his own smile back.

“Oluo, you’re back— _and_ you brought Eren!” she exclaimed cheerily. “It’s great to see you. How are you feeling?”

Eren had to clear his throat before he responded. “I’m good, Petra— _uhm_ , how about you?”

“Oh, I’m _alright_ , I guess,” she sighed—Eren guessed it was probably the hundredth time she had been asked. “I’m just disappointed I won’t be able to make it t’Eld and Gunther’s funeral. I’m going to miss them,” she added softly, and the happy smile seemed _much_ sadder.

“I’m glad you’re alive, Petra,” Eren found himself saying— _firmly_ , ignoring the look Oluo was giving him.

She snorted slightly, waving a hand. “I am too, Eren, don’t worry yourself. My days at the digs may be over, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t other positions!”

He grinned, and he could hear Oluo chuckling quietly next to him.

“Good for you, Petra.”

“Thanks. So, y’ _got_ ’a tell me—how’s ‘Lewis’?”

Eren could practically _feel_ her curiosity rolling off in waves.

“He’s good. His name’s ‘Levi’.”

“How is he adjusting? Have you learned anything?”

“He likes Stevie Nicks,” Eren admitted, laughing at her surprised chortle.

“He does? _Wow_ —I guess that means he’s adjusting okay?”

His grin faltered, and he shrugged. “He’s having a little bit of trouble with th’food.”

She nodded. “That’s to be expected. Honestly, I bet the food today is kind of a crappy step-down from the food back then. It didn’t have all the nasty artificial stuff it does now.” Oluo muttered something along the lines of “it sure as hell had _diseases_ ”, but he shut up under Petra’s pointed glare before she continued. “You know, I’ll never forget when I saw him in the cave,” she mused, “— _clinging_ t’you for dear life.”

“ _Petra_ —the guy could barely walk then—”

“I know!” she insisted, “It was different, I swear—like _you_ were the one he had been reaching for.”

Eren felt an odd sort of tingling in his chest at the words. What had happened in the cavern was overall fairly hazy in his mind, and how Levi was grabbing him wasn’t something he had tried to commit to memory. It was odd of her to point out—he felt like he couldn’t digest it.

“Hange said it’s probably because I looked like someone he used t’know,” he asserted. “He even seemed to recognize _her_ , too.”

“Really?”

“ _Yeah_ , it’s pretty weird. It took us forever t’get him to not call me ‘Nren’.”

“Hm,” Petra hummed. “—do you think he’d recognize us?”

He blinked.

“I—I duh’know. Maybe.”

“Why don’t you take my phone with you and show him pictures of us? It’s on the table.”

“ _Uhm_ —I don’t—”

“ _Geez_ —just do what she says,” Oluo snapped. “Don’t y’have any manners?”

“— _fine_!” he hissed. “I don’t think he’ll recognize you guys, though. It’s probably just a really random coincidence.”

Petra only smiled at him as he took up her phone.

“Thanks, Eren. It’s kind of hard t’find amusement around here.”

“S’okay.”

It wasn't.

###### . . .

Eren was almost late when realized he needed to be back in Levi’s room.Once he had finally made it back to the right hallway—out of breath, understanding at that moment why _Oluo_ had been—men and women were already exiting the room, whispering quietly among themselves. They all looked very distinguished with their suits and pantsuits, and Eren faltered for a moment.

 _Great—and here I am in my shorts_.

“Excuse me?”

Only one of them turned—an elderly man with a white beard and whiskers.

Eren blinked.

“— _mister Arlert_?”

“ _Eren_!” the old man exclaimed cheerfully. “Eren, my boy, how are you?”

“I’m good, sir—I didn’t realize _you_ were here too.”

Armin talked often about his grandfather, so it wasn’t like Eren could easily forget the man was a historian under Erwin, but he was fairly prestigious—he was often away on long trips, especially now that Armin was in college. He liked him—he was nice and had a sense of humor that Eren could appreciate, but seeing him there all of the sudden only added to the growing mystery.

“Yes, well, with the uncovering of Erwin’s latest artifact, I just _had_ to travel back home and participate,” the older man explained, chuckling to himself as if it were a joke. Eren added in his own edgy laugh. “It’s a welcome surprise to see you here as well, Eren! Erwin has singled you out to be that man’s caretaker, then?”

“Yes.”

“Good on him—you’re a very _caring_ person, my boy. You suit the role perfectly.”

 _Why is it a role_?

“. . .thanks. So, _uhm_ —mister Arlert?”

“Hm?”

“What exactly did y’ask Levi?”

The man’s brow furrowed suddenly. “Didn’t Erwin explain that was to be secret information?”

“Yes, sir— _but_ —”

“—then I don’t see why you’re asking. _Careful_ , Eren—the dog that sticks its nose into a hive without caution is sure to be stung.”

He laughed again. Eren didn’t reciprocate.

“It was good seeing you, but I must be on my way. Be sure to tell my grandson that I said ‘hello’.”

“. . .yes, sir.”

With a nod, the other walked off down the hall with the rest of the group, and they were gone.

Eren stood silently for a moment, staring at the empty space where they had been before he moved forward again, entering the room and shutting the door behind him. Levi was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, legs dangling. His eyes—which had been locked aimlessly on the floor—darted up immediately when Eren walked in.

He looked tired—though Eren had to wonder if he would always look tired with those deep circles under his eyes. It had been like that when they had gotten him out of the crystal, and they hadn’t lessened a bit.

 _They only look more purple_.

“Eren?”

Offering a slight smile, Eren hoisted himself on the bed beside him, reaching for the journal and the pen.

 **How did it go**?

Levi shrugged, but wrote back anyway.

 **Fine**.

Eren huffed after he translated the single word. The reply wasn’t at all satisfying.

 **What did they ask you**?

The other didn’t write for a moment. Eren tilted his head slightly, waiting—finally nudging his shoulder with his own. That seemed to snap him out of— _whatever_ had captured him, and Levi’s messy scribbled was deciphered into—

 **Just stuff. Nothing important**.

 _Wow, that’s disappointing_.

Remembering Petra’s phone, Eren quickly wrote—

 **I have a picture I want to show you. Let me know if you recognize anyone in it, okay**?

Levi nodded. Eren decidedly ignored the press against him when Levi leaned to get a better look at the phone he brought out of his pocket. He jerked slightly when Eren turned the screen on and unlocked it. Snickering, he thumbed his way through her apps till he found the photo album, eyes narrowing as he scrolled through the pictures. Levi was peering over his hand, and although Eren could only see the top of his head, he could tell it was tilted a little bit.

After a minute of searching, Eren found the perfect one—Petra had taken it a couple of days ago, when they had just started working on the dig site. They all stood in a line with a piece of the wall behind them—Petra had her arm slung around him, and Eld was giving him bunny ears. Gunther was smiling with his hands behind his back—even Oluo had managed a kinder expression, though his eyes were on Petra instead of forward like the rest of theirs were.

 _It kind of hurts to look at it_.

He tapped it so it became enlarged, tilting the phone on its side and offering it to Levi.

Levi eyed it warily, but gingerly took it from Eren, neck craning downwards and squinting at the image.

Silence.

Eren had expected some sort of immediate reaction, but Levi only stared at the picture, expression absent and eyes unreadable, even under the illumination of the phone’s light. It gave the man an eerie look—made him seem _older_ , more tired, making the circles beneath his eyes ghoulish. 

Finally, he offered the phone back to Eren. When he took it, Levi instantly moved to write in the journal.

 **My squad. They all look like my old squad**.

Eren felt oddly uncomfortably. He had almost forgotten that Levi had been in the military.

 **All of them? Every single one**?

Levi was nodding a bit when he scribbled back.

 **Yeah. They all died. What is this picture**?

Eren frowned slightly.

 **It’s a picture of the members of my team that helped get you out**.

Levi yanked the journal from him.

 **Are they alive**?

 _This is bad_.

 **Well—the guy with the ponytail and the guy with the brown hair died. There’s a funeral for them tomorrow**.

Levi’s handwriting was becoming messier and _messier_ each time he responded.

 **What about the woman? And the other guy**?

His head leaning over was starting to get in the way of Eren writing, but he didn’t move him.

 **The woman’s back was injured and her lower body is paralyzed, but she’ll live. The guy is fine**.

Levi didn’t take the pen this time, just looked the other way sharply.

 _Well, I might as well ask_.

 **Who do I look like**?

He nudged Levi’s shoulder with the journal, and when the man had finished reading, he looked up to stare at Eren. It was a strange moment—just like last night in the bathroom. It seemed like they didn’t move for a long time—Levi didn’t move, at least, but Eren fidgeted slightly now and then. Finally, Levi wrote something.

Disappointingly enough, when he had finished translating, Levi hadn’t answered his question.

 **I want to go to the funeral**.

Eren sighed.

 **You can’t. I’m sorry. You aren’t allowed to leave the room**.

This visibly frustrated him, pen marking the page rather harshly.

 **Why not**?

Eren only shook his head. Levi snatched the journal and _slammed_ it shut, turning his upper body away with a hard twist.

Guilt.

_Maybe he never got’a say a proper good-bye to them—his squad. I mean, there’s no way they’re even the same people, of course, but—_

It was hopeless. Even if Eren managed to sneak Levi out of the room, _somehow_ got to his car and drove them to the cemetery, there was probably going to be a small amount of reporters there, and if they spotted Levi, they wouldn’t stand a chance. Eren would lose his job instantly.

Levi still hadn’t moved, facing away from Eren. His hands—which rested on his bare thighs—were clenched, the pads of his fingers pressed down into the flesh of his thigh till they were white.

He had to distract him.

 _I don’t know if I can do this_.

Eren quietly slid off the bed, glancing at the time on Petra’s phone. It was probably late enough.

When he approached the door, Levi looked up—there was a fleeting bit of _panic_ in the grey hues, and the man seemed half-ready to slide off the bed, but Eren quickly flashed him a smile, shaking his head. It amazed him sometimes what he could do without words—he was a bit of a talker and had a hard time _otherwise_ , but with _Levi_ —

Despite the language barrier, it was like they didn’t need a lot of words anyway.

He raised a hand over the light switch, not missing Levi’s sudden inhale when the lights were turned off, and darkness devoured them both. Feeling around, Eren made it back to the bed. Another second, and he was able to find Levi’s hand, which was stiff with apprehension. He gripped it anyway, and gave it a gentle tug, pulling the man off the bed and towards the window. It was slow-going at first—Eren’s hip hit the end of the bed and Levi seemed reluctant to be pulled along, but after a moment, the other was nearly pressed up to his side.

Eren let go of his hand when they were finally in front of the window. He took a slow breath, then yanked the blinds apart in one, swift movement.

Even though he knew what to expect, it was still _breathtaking_. 

In the dark of the night, the glow from every window and every sign practically punctuated the darkness with a glittering light that came in a dozen colors, all at various heights and distorted by the faint silhouettes of buildings and skyscrapers. If Eren looked down, he could see cars and their headlights going to and fro across the various streets or stopped at stoplights, leaving rows and rows and red and yellow lights.

Suddenly, the view was blocked by a dark shape—a hand. Eren looked over to Levi.

The man’s lips were parted _just_ slightly, and his eyes were wide— _wider_ than Eren had ever seen, thin brows nearly forming arches above them. For a moment, it seemed like Levi wasn’t breathing—his chest didn’t move, and the hand he had placed on the window’s glass was stiff— _still_.

For the first time in the last couple of days, Eren felt himself genuinely smiling.

“Levi?”

Levi didn’t respond right away, but after a moment, he finally turned his head towards Eren, the grey in his eyes sparkling from the lights reflecting in them.

 _He looks really pretty right now—it’s clichéd, but his eyes—even though they’re turned away, it’s like they have stars in them or something_.

Eren quietly motioned to the window with an inquisitive tilt from his head.

The wrinkles by Levi's eyes loosened slightly, and—Eren _almost_ blamed it as a trick of the light—there was a very small _smile_ on those thin lips of his.

 _He’s breathtaking. Mom was right_.

The hand that was on the window lowered, and Eren felt those same fingers sliding between his, squeezing tightly— _needing_ , almost.

 _The guy’s escaped the walls of the past, but now? It’s kind of like he’s trapped all over again behind the four walls of the room_.

He leaned down just slightly.

 _Damn it_.

A little more—Levi’s face was a lot closer now, and he could feel the man’s breath against his chin.

Suddenly, however, the moment was broken when Levi jerked his head away. Eren paused, startled—then quickly straightened, clearing his throat with some difficulty and forcing his gaze back to the window. His cheeks felt _incredibly_ hot—he sure even his hand was a bit sweaty now.

 _Fuck. That was awkward as hell. Good job, Eren—you’ve known the guy for what—two days now? Three? And you’re already moving in for th’kill. Great_.

He needed to rescue this somehow.

Wriggling his hand out of the other’s hand, he stumbled back over to the bed, feeling for the pen and journal, quickly writing in the vague light of the bustling city before he turned around, offering it to Levi.

 **I’ll take you to the funeral tomorrow**.


	7. ONLY HOPE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > " _The past is only the present becoming invisible and mute; and because it is invisible and mute, its memorized glances and its murmurs are infinitely precious. We are tomorrow's past._ " — **Mary Webb**.
> 
> DAY TWO OF SEVEN. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait! i was on a short excursion to my grandparents out of state. comments and kudos appreciated.
> 
> reminder that you can find me on tumblr **[here](http://mstrholmes.tumblr.com/)**.

He woke up because of the pressing weight on top of his legs.

It wasn’t heavy, but it was hard to ignore when it moved every now and then. Eren wasn’t sure exactly how long he tried to ignore it—two, three, maybe four hours. He felt ridiculously heavy from the medications that Mina had given him, and bothering with something he couldn’t even figure out while he was half-asleep seemed unimportant until growing irritation finally prompted him to pry an eye open.

That eye met a closed one so _close_ to his own that he could see the lashes quivering slightly against the cheek.

Eren stared at Levi’s face for what seemed to be eternity.

A second later, he figured out that the weight on his legs was Levi’s own draped haphazardly over both of his. The man was laying on his side, facing Eren, arms brought up to his chest like some sort of animal. He was momentarily relieved—for the sake of his crazily beating heart—that Levi was still asleep.

This was the first time he had seen Levi sleeping naturally—no sedation.

It was almost hard to believe that he was sleeping, because the sun coming in through the window was pretty vibrant, and Eren had to squint against it when he looked over the other’s shoulder. They had forgotten to draw the blinds closed before going to sleep.

That, however, was the least of his worries—he was too busy resisting the urge to catapult his entire body off of the bed.

 _No way in hell am I going to disturb him. The guy deserves some sleep. But—why is he so damn close? I feel like I’m suffocating_! 

Slowly— _ever_ so slowly—he shifted his shoulders, carefully moving so that he was on his back instead of resting on his side.

Levi’s leg tensed, and so did Eren’s entire body. There was a low noise, which he guessed was Levi grunting, and the leg curled itself around one of his own before the movement stopped, leaving them pressed together more than before.

Exhaling cautiously, he turned his head, angling it so he could look at the digital clock on the nightstand. The red numbers said it was ten o’clock in the morning. That meant Mikasa would be coming with his clothes soon—and give him a chance to implement his plan.

Admittedly, it wasn’t his greatest—not that any he ever came up with were. They were impulsive compared to Armin’s thought-out strategies and escape routes—they also weren’t made at two in the morning, nor included the kidnapping of archaeology’s greatest find despite the boss’ explicit instructions. Eren knew he probably could have called Armin and asked for help despite how late it had been, but something in his gut had kept him from doing it.

Armin, being as sensible as he was, probably wouldn’t have helped anyway—he would have just told Eren to videotape the funeral and then bring it to Levi to watch, and there was no way he was going to do something so damn insensitive as that.

He turned his attention back to Levi’s sleeping face.

The man’s thin brows were furrowed deeply in comparison to when he was sedated, and Eren could feel his toes curling just slightly against the back of his leg every now and then. Levi was short enough that, with both their heads on the pillow, his feet just reached passed Eren’s knees. Six foot two was a big difference compared to _five_ foot two, and Eren found it ridiculously endearing.

 _Too_ endearing.

 _It kind of reminds me of last night. What had that been, anyway? Why had I tried to kiss him like that_?

His gaze drifted to the other’s parted lips. His face was still so close—Eren could feel warm breaths against his cheeks.

 _Maybe I can blame Mom—her and her stupid “he’s attractive” stuff. I mean, he is, but_ —

A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

“Eren?” came Mina’s quiet voice from the other side. “Are you awake, dear?”

He quickly glanced to Levi, then turned his head to face the door. 

“ _Yeah_ ,” he whispered back as loudly as he could manage, feeling his face warm almost instantly.

 _Great, now this sweet old lady has to see me in this weird-ass position_.

The door opened and closed with a soft “ _click_ ”. Mina was smiling warmly, holding a tray with two plates of food on them. When her old eyes landed on the bed, however, her smile curved into a small grin.

“Good _morning_ , Eren. It’s nice to see you’re up! I assume that Levi here is still snoozing away?”

Eren managed an embarrassed grunt, nodding. “He’s pretty out of it, I think.”

“Well, he should be with that sleeping pill I gave him.”

“Y’gave him a pill?”

She heaved a sigh, setting the tray down on the bed. “I came in here to check up on the both of you around four for my early shift, and he was still awake! Granted, he was in bed, at least, but he sat up immediately when I walked in. It took a little coaxing, but I got him to swallow a _light_ sleeping pill. It seems he suffers from a bit of insomnia, if you ask me.”

His eyes moved to Levi again, frowning slightly. With everything that was going on, he hadn’t really thought about the man’s health too much. He studied him for a moment. Levi seemed a little thinner, if anything. He still had dark circles, which only contributed to Mina’s diagnosis. 

_Is it really insomnia? Maybe that’s just what a soldier’s life was like back then. Most of th’information we have is pretty general, but—with all those horrors, I can only imagine the ton of nightmares_.

“Look, I think he’s waking up,” Mina commented cheerily, and Eren scrambled to get Levi’s leg off of his and create some sort of distance between them. 

_Things are already awkward enough_.

Sitting up quickly, he focused on the food Mina brought—waffles and eggs for him, and toast and Jell-O for Levi because of his stomach. Levi hadn’t been too enthused about the Jell-O the first time it made its appearance, but he ate it anyway, only making a face occasionally and downing lots of water.

 _I guess that’s another thing I’ve learned about him—he definitely does not like Jell-O_.

“ _Eren_ —?”

Levi’s sudden voice sounded disoriented, and it startled him a bit when he felt a hand fist the side of his shorts. Looking over his shoulder, Eren was even more alarmed at the man’s expression—he was squinting up at him, brows still furrowed and lips turned downwards. He was even _panting_ slightly. He actually had an expression.

Mina glanced up from her clipboard, eyes narrowing through her half-moon glasses. “Is he alright?”

Eren could only stare for a moment—then slowly lowered one of his hands, placing it over the one of Levi’s that was gripping his pants. It was trembling slightly, grip tightening when the pads of Eren’s fingers made contact with his knuckles.

 _What’s going on_? 

“. . .Levi?” he asked hesitantly, thumb unconsciously running along the top of the other’s hand.

The man squeezed his eyes shut, and the hold tightened further—then, with a slow, quiet exhale, Levi finally let go, pushing himself up with a heavy grunt, expression smoothing almost instantly. They made eye-contact—Eren wordlessly inquiring with a slight tilt of his head, hand still hesitantly over Levi’s.

Levi was the one to look away—and the one to tug his hand back from Eren’s.

Anger simmered in the pit of Eren’s stomach.

 _What th’hell is up with this guy? First he won’t stop clinging to me, and now he pulls away all the time. He’s supposed to be thirty-something, not fifteen_.

“Eren?” It was Mina again, her wavering voice slightly worried. “Does he need some medicine?”

A moment passed—then Eren shifted around so that he was facing Mina’s direction.

“No— _no_ , he’s okay. He’s just not ready for that deep of a sleep, I guess.”

“Oh, dear. I guess that’s the end of the sleeping pills, then. Such a shame, too! You both were so _cute_ snuggled up like that.”

His face felt _hot_ , and Eren instead focused on shoveling eggs into his mouth.

 _Damn, she’s like my mom_.

“. . .Mina?”

“Yes?”

He knew he had to ask her. There was no way he was going to pull his plan with her help, but it seemed like a hell of a lot to ask, so he was hesitating—hesitating long enough that Mina had set her clipboard down and seated herself on the edge of the hospital bed.

“Eren, dear, if you have _any_ medical questions to ask, don’t feel shy—we old people have heard it all here at the hospital!”

Eren stared at her for a long moment.

“—what? No— _no_! That’s—” He carded a few fingers through his hair, sighing viciously. “That’s not what I need t’ask! Look, the funeral is today, and. . .”

She tilted her grey head—waiting. Even Levi seemed apprehensive, and Eren could feel the man’s eyes burning a hole in the back of his head as he cleared his throat. It seemed almost too selfish to ask, but he needed to be—for _Levi_ ’s sake, even if the other was acting weird.

Finally, his vocal chords decided to work.

“. . .I’m going to take Levi. I need you to cover for me.”

 _Silence_.

Mina stared at him for a good minute, the wrinkles by her eyes becoming that much more pronounced as the minutes passed. It felt like there were butterflies on a murderous rampage in his stomach—if Mina didn’t help, then there was no way he could take Levi.

 _How can I explain that to him after last night? He’ll be angry with me all over again_.

It was strange how much the thought made everything inside him squirm.

“—alright.”

Eren blinked stupidly before he croaked, “ _What_?”

“Dear, do you need to clean your ears out?” She was grinning now. “I’ll help, sweetie. Now, I don’t know the whole of whatever is going on, but it seems downright mean to keep Levi here instead of letting him go see the people who saved him.” Her eyes seemed sparkle slightly—the kind of sparkle that old people got during exciting events, but Eren was pretty sure it was just the glare from the light on her glasses.

“Are—are you serious?” Eren gushed, hands tightening into fists. “I mean— _I mean_ , you could get fired or in big trouble if this doesn’t work—”

“Why don’t you explain, then?”

Eren nodded, lips pressing together as he gathered his thoughts. It wasn’t exactly complicated, but Mina was going to the first one to hear it, and there was a good chance it might not have the opportunity to play out the way it needed to.

“Mikasa—my sister—is coming today with some extra clothes for me. I’m go’n’a give some to Levi and catch a ride with her from the hospital to the funeral. I need you t’cover for me when the historians come—tell them Levi’s sick or something. We shouldn’t be gone for too long—we might even be back before they come.”

Mina was frowning just a tad.

“Are you sure Levi will be okay?”

“—why?”

She paused—then shook her head slightly, waving a hand. “Nothing, dear. Nothing. Just an old woman’s worries. Please keep a close eye on him when you’re out, though.”

 _That’s a bit weird_.

“So—” Eren started after a moment, “—does it sound doable?”

“Yes—however, I think the three of you will need to take the back exit. Those darn reporters are constantly skulking around out front!”

“Is there one that isn’t some fire exit?”

“I believe so. The ambulances with emergency patients pull up to double doors back there.”

Eren—despite the situation—grinned slightly. “That’ll work.”

Mina slid off the edge of the bed with a huff, gathering her clipboard in her arms and a sly smile on her face. 

“It looks like we’ve become partners in crime, Eren! You’re just like Joe Friday!”

“—what?”

“Never _mind_ , dear. You just finish your breakfast in time for when your sister comes. I’ve got to go check on my other patients.”

Eren, feeling the adrenaline already filling him, quickly turned his attention to his food, eating it with hurried swipes of his fork. He almost wasn’t hungry anymore—almost. It was like getting ready to go on some secret mission—just add in the _dread_ of possibly getting fired from the job of his dreams.

“Eren?”

 _Is this really worth it? I mean, I hate t’disappoint Levi, but I worked my balls off for this job_.

“— _Eren_.”

He crammed his last bite of waffle into his mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. 

_Maybe my dad’ll be able to fix it if something bad happens_. 

“Zahlen _operam_.”

Levi’s irritated voice finally caught his attention, and he paused mid-chew, blinking at the thing shoved in front of his eyes. _Paper_ —a page in the journal with Levi’s messy scrawls at the top.

Swallowing and muttering about the man’s rudeness, Eren translated the line quickly. It read—

 **What was that all about**?

_He couldn’t have waited until I was done eating? Geez._

**I told her the plan I have for getting you to the funeral**.

Levi’s reply was quick and jerky.

 **Which is**?

The last thing Eren wanted to do was explain it all again, so he translated a question instead.

 **Are you feeling okay today? You looked like you were having an attack when you woke up**.

It went ignored—Levi only underlined his last sentence, drawing attention to it again by jabbing his finger below the words.

 _Levi’s acting really antsy today. This is so weird_.

Eren—feeling childish—only shrugged at the other’s motions, picking up his fork again and running it through the puddles of syrup on his plate. The journal extended towards him by Levi’s hand wavered slightly in the air, then dropped none too gently on the mattress. The man slid off the bed, bare feet _slapping_ against the floor until he shut the bathroom door behind him.

His eyes traveled from the bathroom door to Levi’s plate. The toast had a few bites in them, but the Jell-O was completely untouched.

 _Maybe he’s stressed ‘cause of the funeral today. If Gunther and Eld looked like his old squad—which he said were dead—it’s kind’a like he’s going to their funeral twice_.

Eren’s gaze fell to his lap.

 _That’s seriously messed up—and here I am acting like a complete dick_.

A firm knock made his head jerk up. Before he could ask who it was, the door opened.

“— _Mikasa __! Don’t barge in like that!”_

Mikasa—who strode in quickly, arms full, shutting the door with her foot—merely leveled him with a dispassionate glare, dumping her load onto the bed as soon as she was beside it with little ceremony.

“Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill, Eren,” was her calm reply, smoothing down her ruffled shirt. “I have your stuff, and I brought you a few black things to wear to the funeral—which, by the way, is in an hour, and you’re going to be late if you don’t leave now. Your truck’s in the parking lot.”

“ _Wait_ —Mikasa—”

“Where’s the shorty?”

“What?”

“The shorty— _Levi_. You’re staying with him, aren’t you?”

“Well—yeah—he’s in the bathroom.”

Her eyes seemed to narrow slightly when they locked on the closed door. “He’s not being improper, is he? He was pretty violent with that reporter. I don’t trust him.”

“You said th’same thing about the girl in the self-defense club we went to that I dated!” 

She only shrugged, hopping up onto the bed. “We’ll talk about it later. Hurry up and dress so you can get going. Mom already left the house.”

“Wait—” he quickly interjected, “I—I have something I need t’ask first.”

“What is it?” 

_It’s now or never_.

For some reason, explaining his plan to Mikasa seemed a lot more difficult than explaining it to Mina. Maybe it was the age difference with the nurse—maybe it was the fact that it was _Mikasa_ he was having to convince. She didn’t react much outwardly, at least—she never did, but she seemed relatively calm considering what he was asking her to do.

There was a long silence before she spoke up. She was taking her time, eyes glued to her lap and brows drawn in just slightly.

“—Eren, are you sure you can do this?” she asked quietly.

 _Of all the questions she could’ve asked, that was a weird one t’pick_.

“If it’s about the stitches, I’m already almost healed. Doctor said so.”

Her lips turned up in a tiny smile, head shaking. “I shouldn’t even consider saying ‘yes’.”

Curiosity got the best of him.

“. . .why _are_ you considering?”

Mikasa regarded him for a moment.

“You have this weird spark about you when it comes to him. It makes me want to say ‘yes’.”

 _What is she talking about_?

“ _Spark_?” he wondered aloud, brows furrowing.

She only shrugged. “Nothing. I’ll help, Eren—you know I’ll stick with you for anything. Don’t blame me if you get fired, though.”

Eren cringed, nodding sheepishly. “I won’t—promise.”

“We need to hurry or we’ll be late. What’s taking that old guy so long?”

Now that she mentioned it, Levi had yet to make an appearance since her entrance. Eren followed her gaze to the closed door, squinting slightly as he listened for any noise. There wasn’t anything he could associate with using it—not even the faucet running. Sliding off the bed after quickly scribbling down instructions for Levi in the journal, he knocked loudly, pressing the side of his head to the door to listen for a response.

“Levi?”

The door opened a crack, with Levi regarding him icily through it. Eren held up the journal for the other to look at. He spent a moment reading it, then opened the bathroom door all the way, stepping out—only to stop to eye Mikasa.

“He’s even shorter in person,” Mikasa announced. 

Eren snickered slightly, but shot her a look. “ _Hey_ —just because he can’t understand you doesn’t mean you get to talk crap.”

“He can’t understand me?”

“Nope. He doesn’t know our language, so I have t’write to him and translate with the journal.”

“Then I think he has a little dick to match his short height.”

“— _Mikasa_!”

“What? It’s _fun_.”

He rolled his eyes, ignoring the questionable look aimed at him by Levi and sifting through the pile of clothes on the bed. There was no going around it—nothing was going to fit Levi, but it wasn’t like he could ask the hospital for some scrubs without arousing suspicion. There wasn’t anything fancy—a black hoodie for Levi so they could hide his face and a black dress shirt for himself. There were black jeans to go with his dress shirt, but the other’s only option were some navy sweatpants. Throwing in a pair of boxers, he handed the assortment to Levi. The man didn’t move—just looked from Eren to Mikasa and shifted his weight to one foot.

Eren noticed he did that when he was uncomfortable.

“Mikasa? _Uhm_ —could you wait outside while we get dressed?”

She exhaled somewhat dramatically, but left to go stand in the hall.

It was easy to get dressed quickly—he shimmied the shorts and his old boxers off in record speed, purposefully avoiding looking at Levi in any way till he at least had the fresh pair of underwear and his jeans on. When he finally glanced at him, he was surprised to see that he still had the hospital gown on.

Mildly irritated, he moved for the journal, planning to ask what the holdup was, but he stopped once he realized what it was.

Levi couldn’t untie the strings to his gown. He was tugging hard on them, fingers fiddling clumsily with the tightly-pulled knot behind his neck, and it was all Eren could do to watch with some _amazement_ as the clothes Levi held in his arms started to fall to the floor with how hard the task was proving to be.

“—Levi?”

Grey eyes shifted towards him. If Eren didn’t know any better, they almost seemed embarrassed.

“. . . _here_ ,” he mumbled, setting his shirt down and stepping behind Levi, shooing away his hands to mess with the knots himself.

Levi went rigid instantly, but he didn’t pull away.

The strings around Levi’s neck were easy to undo once Eren had pulled on it enough. The only problem that arose next was the fact that the last knot to undo was from the strings around the man’s _waist_. 

_Hesitation_.

Eren didn’t even try not to stare, eyes glued on Levi’s rear much longer than was _probably_ necessary. The other had started to fidget now—tiny, minuscule fidgets, weight shifting back and forth between his feet. Eren could tell by the way the muscles in the backs of his legs flexed.

 _Damn it. My heart’s beating way too fast. He has a nice ass. It’s kind of small, though. I guess it’s from that soldier stuff. It’s cute. Wait—what was I doin’ again? Right—right, the knots_.

He slowly lowered his hands.

 _I don’t think I can do this. I’m not some blushing virgin, I’ve seen a guy’s ass before, but_ —

It felt stupid, but after another minute of his hands hovering over the strings, he finally resorted to squeezing his eyes shut. His fingers fumbled a little bit to find the knot—purposefully ignoring the way the other’s body shivered slightly when the tips of his fingers met skin instead of the string. He was relieved he was able to undo it quickly, turning away as soon as the strings fell apart and busying himself with buttoning his own shirt up.

 _I can’t let him see how much I’m blushing_.

After a good two minutes of buttoning up his shirt and hearing no sort of noise from Levi, Eren finally dared himself to sneak a careful glance over his shoulder.

Levi was just— _standing_ there. He hadn’t moved since Eren had undone the strings, but the hospital gown was starting to fall off his shoulders. His back was to him, and he couldn’t see the other’s face, but his stance was tense, and his head titled downwards, exposing his neck and the beginning of his undercut.

_He looks so lost like that._

His hand was on Levi’s shoulder before he realized what he was doing. It didn’t last long there, however, much to his disappointment—the man instantly took several _jerky_ steps away from him, dropping the clothes on the floor and peeling off the hospital gown.

 _At least he’s getting ready now, I guess_.

Eren tore his gaze away from the other with a quiet huff, turning his head to the pile of clothes.

 _That’s right—Dad put something for me with them_.

Hands immediately started going through the pile, feeling through the clothes till his fingers brushed against something with hard edges that wasn’t his laptop. When he pushed the shirt that was on top of it away, it was revealed to be a box. With little ceremony, he yanked the lid off, peering inside.

A single key on a leather cord.

He lifted it carefully, eyes narrowing as he inspected the object. It didn’t look new—in fact, it looked ancient—as in _archaeology_ ancient.

 _Wall Age_ ancient.

There wasn’t anything else in the box—even after he tipped it over and tapped the bottom. Not any instructions, not even a little note to explain why the hell his dad had given him an actual artifact to keep track of. The key looked suspiciously important—it belonged in a museum or back with his dad for further study—yet, here it was, in his hands and on some dingy cord like a cheap steam punk necklace.

“ _Oh_ ,” he breathed quietly, rolling it between his fingers.

 _This is real. This is one-hundred percent an actual Wall Age artifact in my hands right now—and it isn’t some damn copper pot. This is history—this is hope_ —

 ** _Hope_**?

 _That doesn’t make sense—this doesn’t make sense. Why do I need to hide this from Smith? How am I supposed to hide this from Smith? By wearing it_?

Despite the thought, he was already slipping it over his head— _when_ he had, he wasn’t sure, but the key was now resting against his chest. It felt _electrifying_ —even more so when he held it between his fingers.

 **This is mine**.

 ** _This is hope_**.

Everything had gone ridiculously silent. He couldn’t even hear Levi getting dressed anymore. It was all he could do to stare down at the key cradled in the palm of his hand. The only noise was coming from the key itself—a low thrumming, wind whistling by when there was _no_ wind at all.

Just the key.

“Eren?”

 _Only_ the key. _Only_ hope.

“ _Eren_.”

A pale hand suddenly came over the key, and Eren jerked his head up in surprise. His eyes met Levi’s—they were narrowed slightly, but Eren could see anxiety as clear as day in the grey colors.

Cool fingers threaded through his own, with the key pressed between their hands as Levi squeezed.

“You look constipated,” the other muttered, eyes flickering from Eren’s and to the key.

Eren stared.

_I’m going nuts. I’m actually going crazy, because I’m almost kind’a positive he just said—_

“. . .Levi?”

The man’s gaze met his again.

“—did you just say I looked constipated. . .?” he tried— _haltingly_ , brow furrowed, because there was no way that Levi should be able to speak his language already—and no way that Eren should be able to understand _other_ ’s.

It was Levi’s turn to stare, the corners of his eyes widening a fraction.

 _However_ —

The door opened. Eren quickly yanked his hand away, letting the key fall to his chest. Levi still seemed a bit frozen, but after a moment, he lowered his hand, taking a small step away from him.

It looked painful.

Mikasa peered in.

“How long does it take two guys to get dressed?” she insisted, arms crossing themselves over her chest. “It’s been almost ten minutes. If you don’t get your shoes on now, we’re going to be late. My mustang is fast, but not that fast.”

It took Eren a second to find his voice again.

“— _right_ ,” he croaked, clearing his throat. “Sorry—I’m getting my shoes on now.”

“What about Levi? I didn’t bring an extra pair of shoes.”

Eren busied himself with his shoelaces. The key was a bit distracting, as leaning over meant that it _dangled_ below his eyes.

 _Maybe that whole thing was just a hallucination. Yeah—there’s no way he said something I could understand_.

“He’ll just have to go barefoot,” Eren mumbled, straightening with a loud exhale.

Mikasa had one eyebrow raised, motioning with her head to Levi. “The clothes are really baggy. It looks like the sweatpants are going to fall down any second.”

“It’ll have t’do—look, we’re ready to go, okay? Let’s just go.”

She shrugged. “Alright. You got the journal?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we have a funeral to attend.”


	8. JUST AN INVITATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > " _History is not what you thought. It is what you remember. All other history defeats itself._ " — **Sellar & Yeatman**.
> 
> DAY TWO OF SEVEN. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops, extra long chapter because i took so long. this one was a bit difficult to write, but here we are! comments and kudos appreciated. NOTE AS OF 12.15.16: thank you for the continuous stream of comments even after it's been forever since I updated this story! I do plan to come back to it at some point in the future, life is just a bit busy for me right now.

“You’re driving way too fast, Eren.”

Escaping the hospital had been scarily easy—despite a few wandering nurses and the distant chatter of doctors in another hallway, they didn’t run into any persons _or_ problems. Eren had gone straight for the elevator—until Mikasa explained that using the elevator would be a stupid idea unless he _really_ wanted to get caught, and with her gentle guidance, Eren then opted for the stairs.

“No, m’not,” he muttered, foot pressing on the gas reflexively. “This is the highway, it’s fine.”

There wasn’t a soul in sight when they came to the back doors, and it seemed like the whole thing was going to go off without a hitch. Levi had been weirdly compliant despite his attitude up in the hospital room. Eren only heard an occasional grunt when the other’s foot would catch on the edges of the legs of his sweatpants and he would stumble forward. He had offered Levi a hand, but it was decidedly ignored—not spared even the slightest glance when he extended it in front of him.

It left a bitter aftertaste.

“Eren, the speed limit is _sixty_ —you’re going seventy-five,” she commented, and by way of the mirror, Eren could see her leaning out from her seat behind his and peering over his shoulder. “The cops will get us.”

“Everyone else is going this speed!” he insisted, shoulders hunching away from her gaze indignantly. “They can’t pull over _everybody_.”

Mikasa always went too slow when she drove, and despite the mustang being her car, Eren argued viciously for the right to the keys. She wasn’t happy about giving them up—and she was even less happy when Eren explained somewhat sheepishly that she would need to sit in the back so Levi could take the passenger seat.

“Just because everybody is doing it doesn’t mean you get to break the law.”

“You _want_ to be late?”

“No—but don’t blame me if shorty freaks out.”

Eren glanced at the passenger seat from the corner of his eye. 

Besides some confusion with the seat-belt, Levi had seemed fine with the whole deal—that is, until Eren put the keys in and turned it on. Sure, Mikasa’s car didn’t roar like his old truck did, but it had this satisfying rumble whenever the engine was started. Levi only grimaced and slouched a bit in his seat, eyes squinting against the onslaught of cold air bursting from the air conditioning vents. The only startling reaction came when Eren had begun to ease the car out of the parking lot. Levi had looked frantically right and left out of the side window as if he was searching for something, the pads of his fingers pressed against the window.

 _Horses, probably. Maybe he thought this was some carriage thing_.

Speed didn’t seem to bother him. He was still looking out the window like they had when they started out, twisted around in his seat so he was facing away from Eren’s. He couldn’t see his expression—the only thing he could see was the man’s face reflected on the window’s glass, flickering with the change in scenery or when another car passed them.

Levi looked at ease— _content_ , if Eren really wanted to push it, and he kind of did. He wanted to believe that Levi felt something like that at times—relaxed, comfortable, the crease between Levi’s brows loosened slightly and his eyes partly closed. They had only known each other for a few days, but deep down, strangely enough, Eren knew that expression was going to be rare.

He knew a lot of things that he shouldn’t know—and he knew he wanted to see that contented expression on Levi’s face more often.

 _Even when he sleeps, he doesn’t look like that. I kind’a wonder why_.

“Eren?”

It was hard not to wonder what it would be like if he tried to smooth the man’s expression himself—run his thumb along the bridge of his nose, the outline of his cheekbones, pressing into the skin until it turned white with the pressure, leaning in just a bit closer—

“Eren, you’re drifting out of the lane.”

“—what? Damn it—”

He quickly jerked the steering wheel—the car mimicked the jerk, settling back in the center of the lane. The mirror showed that Mikasa was shaking her head slightly, leaning against the back of her seat. Eren made a face, mumbling quietly to himself that he was perfectly capable of handling a car like a damn normal person.

 _It’s Levi’s fault I’m getting all distracted, anyway_.

It wasn’t exactly true, but it was more satisfying to think. 

“Get off the highway here and make a right at the stoplight. It’s the cemetery near Mom’s house.”

“Right, _right_ —I know.”

His mom’s house—their house, when he and Mikasa had been kids—was located in a decidedly more rural part of the surrounding neighborhoods, closer to the country than anything else. All the houses were older and had wood instead of bricks, with huge backyards that spanned an acre and carpeted basements. 

Eren loved her house more than he was ready to admit, with its stupidly large flowerbeds and towering trees. Driving to it was just as much fun as being there—it was pretty easy to tell when he was getting close from the way the road became uneven and the branches of the trees on either side stretched over the car, creating a deep green canopy.

Levi’s expression had changed as soon as their surroundings had—he seemed more alert, head turning in several directions with little jerks. Eren grinned, and fumbled a bit with the buttons before he pressed the right one to lower Levi’s window.

The man pulled away from it when the glass slid down, but as soon as it was gone, he leaned his head out immediately, hands gripping the edge of where the window had been.

Eren’s grin became a soft look.

The patches of sunlight that the trees above let through created a sort of green-ish light, and that color reflected off of Levi’s dark hair, giving it a luminescent shine. It was kind of like a kaleidoscope—the car continued forward, and the light would change in size and intensity on the top of the man’s head.

After a moment, Levi turned to look over his shoulder—Eren stiffened at being caught staring, offering a weak smile, feeling his face warm slightly. The other didn’t smile back, but his expression was strangely tender. That only lasted for a second, however, before it looked—sad. Levi turned his head away, and Eren forced himself to focus on the road ahead, ignoring the odd pang in his chest.

 _This is bad. This is very bad_.

The cemetery was set apart from the rest of the neighborhood. It was on several acres of extremely flat land with a short, iron fence surrounding it and several huge trees. The grass was always slightly over-grown, and it looked scary as hell at night, but it was a nice place, Eren guessed, for people to be laid to rest.

While there were a fair amount of people gathered, Eren was relieved to see not one single reporter skulking around. The idea angered him considerably—even though the families had invited whoever wanted to come, it wasn’t right—Gunther and Eld were people, and the funeral wasn’t a damn spectacle.

It was sad, not on today’s _news_.

###### . . .

Eren cried a lot less than he expected.

The service lasted for about an hour and a half. It began with the caskets being carried down a path created by the line of people on either side. The lids were closed, and Eren was feverishly glad of it. He didn’t care—he didn’t want to see Eld and Gunther like that. He didn’t want to satisfy his rampant imagination of the gore that must be inside the coffins. Eren wanted to keep the memory of their excited faces the day of the accident—Eld’s weak jokes and Gunther’s decidedly awkward manner. 

It was a messy business. There was a lot of crying and sobbing—particularly those who got up to speak. Their crying was especially ugly, huge blobs of tears pouring down their red faces and necks. Gunther’s girlfriend had her make-up all running something awful. 

She said they had planned to get married next month in a large field, much like the cemetery.

Eld’s mother sobbed and sobbed into the microphone and never managed to say a single word—her husband had to escort her away.

Oluo came up to speak as well—Levi had tensed considerably beside him when he did. He was tense the entire time, really, standing stiffly and not moving an inch. He wasn’t crying, either, though Eren knew better than to expect that. It was a little hard to tell—before getting out of the car, Mikasa made him pull Levi’s hood up so he wouldn’t get recognized.

Even though he bit his tongue a number of times, it was Oluo that made Eren’s eyes water. They made eye-contact while he was talking, but Oluo didn’t acknowledge him beyond that.

 _I don’t really have the right_.

It was messy because the heat was almost _unbearable_. Everyone was crying and everyone was sweating. Eren’s armpits felt incredibly damp and he had to slick his hair back to keep it from sticking to his forehead. There were no clouds that day—just the sun beating down on every black-clad back gathered.

The hour and a half came and went, and there was a line-up to say a word to the families and the bodies. Eren felt his stomach churn instantly when he heard the creak of the lids being swung open, and he squeezed his eyes shut, halting mid-step.

 _I can’t do this. I can’t do it. I can’t. I feel sick. I feel like I’m going t’be sick. That’s their bodies in there—their dead bodies. I don’t_ —

Something was nudging his hand.

Eren’s eyes flew open, and he looked down immediately.

He wasn’t sure when his hand had become a tight fist, but Levi’s fingers were currently pulling apart his clenched ones. Eren exhaled slowly—a loud, shaky breath—before he let the muscles in his hand loosen. Levi’s hand hesitated, skimming the surface of Eren’s, but then the fingers threaded them together firmly. The man’s hand was extremely warm and sweaty, and in any other situation, Eren would have found it ridiculously gross, but he relished in the action, gaze flickering upwards to the other’s face.

He couldn’t see it.

Levi’s head was turned away, concealed completely by the edge of the hood.

 _How did it end up like this? I should be the one comforting him, not the other way around. Damn it. I feel like such a kid_.

Despite the thought, Eren didn’t dare separate their hands, especially as the line became shorter and shorter. When they were up next, Eren quickly wriggled around in front of Levi—the guy probably had no idea what to do, not mention that under _no circumstances_ could he be recognized by families, so he quickly maneuvered him so he was slightly behind him.

The families didn’t say much. He mumbled some poor excuse for a condolence, tasting sweat on his lips as soon as he opened his mouth. 

“Sorry for your, _uhm_ —your losses.”

Gunther’s girlfriend—she had said her name, but for the life of him, Eren couldn’t remember—seemed to be the only one managing to keep it together. She smiled weakly, nodding her head.

“Thank you. You’re Eren, aren’t you? You were a part of his team.”

“. . .yeah.”

The smile became bitter. “I’m sure Gunther would be glad to know you’re okay. If only _he_ was too.”

Eren didn’t know what to say, even as the anger simmered in the depths of his gut. He nodded numbly, gripping Levi’s hand and tugging him past the group as quickly as he politely could with the man stumbling behind him.

 _One monster defeated. I just have t’see the bodies now_.

They smelled slightly because of the heat. He felt sick again, but Levi’s grip became iron— _strength_ , the strength to continue, and Eren forced one foot in front of the other.

Gunther and Eld were both dressed in deep green suits with their hands folded over their chests. Gunther’s suit had a suspiciously high collar, and there was a weird dent on Eld’s—Eren’s stomach took a vicious lurch, and his nails dug into Levi’s wet hand, pressing his lips together. He ignored the salty taste of his sweat in his mouth again.

Levi—besides his tight hold on Eren’s hand—hadn’t moved an inch. His head was tilted downwards, and even though the hood was hiding his face, Eren could tell he was looking down at the bodies. There was silence except for the low hum of chatter among other people at the funeral—that, and his and Levi’s sweaty breathing.

 _The heat’s terrible_.

“Gunther. Eld,” Levi started all of the sudden—hesitantly, and Eren guessed it was because those names weren’t the ones he was used to calling them. “Ego gototet vos dwe iterum.” The words were firm, quiet, and Eren could just barely hear them. “—I’sum. . .lied.”

 ** _This is good-bye again_**.

Levi lifted his free hand—clenched into a fist—and placed it over his chest.

It was the salute—Eren knew it, recognized it _instantly_ from textbooks and ancient illustrations.

 ** _It’s the salute you’ve given so many times_**.

The man wasn’t just saying good-bye to the Gunther and Eld that were archaeologists. Eren realized, in that moment, that he was saying good-bye to _his_ Gunther and Eld, too. To both of them—the _final_ farewell—and Eren couldn’t even bring himself to say a single word.

 _He has a more strength than I’ll ever have. I wish I had something, but I’m pretty sure I don’t_.

There really weren’t any tears left to cry, not even for Levi.

“Levi?”

The guy still hadn’t moved, bent over slightly.

Another moment passed, and he did move—only to _sink_ to the ground.

“ _Levi_?” Eren hissed, worry seeping into his voice. He bent down quickly, shaking the hand that connected them. “Levi? _Damn it_ —”

It wasn’t like he could understand him—this wasn’t before, that illusion in the hospital room—and the other sure as hell wasn’t responding. He was hunched over, and if it weren’t for their hands, he knew Levi would probably be lying flat on the grass.

He jerked his head around—over his shoulder, around the coffins. No one was looking at them—Mikasa was busy talking with someone else, and the families were conversing with an elderly couple, facing away. Eren quickly slipped an arm around the backs of Levi’s knees and lifted him up bridal style—tried to, anyway, but the man was surprisingly heavy, and he faltered.

“ _Damn it_!” he breathed again, swallowing before he attempted another time. There was only a smidgen more success, and Eren finally settled for half-dragging him behind one of the large trees the decorated the cemetery.

“Levi? _Levi_!” he whispered earnestly, setting the other’s back against the tree and lifting his face up.

 _Sweat_. His face was covered in sweat and flushed a deep, angry red. Eren could see it dribbling down Levi’s forehead underneath the hood, which he quickly yanked down, pressing the back of his hand against the man’s forehead.

 _Was this what Mina was talking about? Being careful? Is he still weak enough that he could get overheated_?

Levi’s breaths were slow and heavy. Eren knew he couldn’t die from something like this—at least, he _hoped_ —but he couldn’t stop the panic tightening in his chest. What could he do? He couldn’t carry Levi to the car without getting some unwanted attention—not to mention Mikasa had parked a _good distance_ away. There weren’t any fans or refreshments.

 _What can I do_?

Eren found himself dabbing away the sweat with the edge of his sleeve. There was little response to this—Levi only lifted his head slightly, towards his hand, but the man’s eyes remained closed, brow furrowed.

“Eren? Hey, I found Mom.”

“—Eren?”

His shoulders stiffened, hunched upwards before he slowly turned his head to look behind. Mikasa was staring down at him, her brows drawn together, eyes darting between Levi’s limp form and his own hunched over one. His mom mimicked her, but her entire face was creased with sudden worry.

“Are you alright, dear? _Is that_ —?”

There were a dozen things he could say—curse Mikasa out for betraying him to Mom, make an excuse that Levi was some drunk relative that happened to look exactly like the Levi on the news, but each one faltered on his lips, and he settled for a slack jaw.

“Eren?” Mikasa insisted sternly. “Is shorty alright?”

He shook his head woodenly.

“Shorty?” his mother questioned. “Does that mean—is that _the_ Levi? Eren, what is he doing here?”

Eren opened his mouth a bit more, then clamped it shut, squeezing Levi’s hand.

 _Strength_.

“I—I think he’s got heatstroke—or—or _something_ ,” he finally stuttered. “He just passed out.”

His mom looked like she had about a million questions wanting to explode from her mouth, but all that came out was, “—. . .get him to the minivan.”

“What?”

“You _heard_ me, Eren Jaeger. I’m parked right next to the cemetery. Pick him up _now_ so we can get him into some air conditioning.” Her voice was incredibly stressed, and Eren scrambled to obey, gripping Levi tightly and lifting him as best he could.

 _It’ll be okay, Levi. I promise_.

 ** _I promise_**.

It was sheer willpower that enabled him to carry Levi across the cemetery—his mom was parked right up at the front, and he thanked karma profusely as the minivan chirped when it was unlocked, the door nearest them sliding open immediately.

“Lay him across the back seat,” she instructed, opening the driver-side door. 

It took a bit of crawling, but Eren managed to get Levi onto the backseat. The minivan thrummed to life, and cool air blew out from the vents on the ceiling. The man was still limp and sweating, and Eren found himself dabbing his face frantically.

 _Damn. Damn it. His clothes are soaked. I should’ve planned this better—what the hell was I thinking, dressing him with sweatpants in the middle of summer? It’s all my fault—I should’ve made a better choice_.

 ** _Don’t regret it, Eren_**.

Slipping his arms around him, Eren hoisted Levi up to a sitting position, grabbing the bottom of the sweatshirt and pulling it over his head. Levi’s chest was just like his face— _red_ and incredibly sweaty, and although there were a ton of distractions he could have focused on, he grit his teeth, eyes glued to the man’s face. With one swift yank, the damp sweatpants were gone, a heap of fabric on the floor of the van.

“How is he doing?” Mikasa called from the front.

“He’s still out of it—still really warm.”

“Then we’re going to the house!” his mom announced—Eren felt like panicking all over again.

“We _can’t_ —I can’t be away from th’hospital too long or else there’ll be trouble with the historians—Mina will get in trouble—”

 ** _Don’t regret your choices_**.

His mom and Mikasa collectively ignored him—the doors were already shut, and the minivan lurched forward out of the small cemetery parking lot. The movement seemed the jolt Levi awake in some way—he wheezed loudly, head falling forward, but his eyes were at least open now, and Eren frantically cupped the man’s face in his hands, lifting it up.

“Levi?”

Levi squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again before they seemed to focus, pupils dilating considerably. He squinted at Eren, and Eren could feel his jaw shift when he swallowed. The guy was probably ridiculously thirsty at this point, but there wasn’t anything he could do until they reached the house, so he offered a weak smile, thumbs rubbing across the other’s wet cheeks.

He _hated_ being helpless, more than anything.

 _I want to help him_.

The other pressed forward against his hands. Their faces were close—though it always seemed to end up like that. Eren found himself vaguely wondering _why_. He had no problem keeping a distance from other people, and he usually preferred to keep it that way. People would stay out of his personal bubble, and he would stay out of theirs, but with _Levi_ —

It was like it was impossible to keep away from him.

He felt a hand on his chest—it was Levi’s, and he stiffened, skin crawling with the way the fingers trailed downwards. When they came to the key, the other’s hand tighten around it—it must have come out from his shirt when he was trying to carry him.

Grey eyes met blue-grey. It was just like before, Levi’s first day at the hospital—staring at him with wordless intensity.

Slowly, he lowered one hand from the man’s face, gripping the key over his hand.

“Eren,” Levi muttered—his voice was dry, and Eren grimaced slightly. “— _shit_. Why can’t you be him?”

 _I can understand what he’s saying again. Is it because of the key? When we hold it_?

Eren felt like his throat was stuffed with cotton—what could he say to that? Those words seared themselves into his brain—it burned because they were true—he wasn’t “Nren”. That was who Levi wanted— _needed_ —and yet all he got was _him_ , some loser twenty-three year-old archaeologist who messed up on his first dig and created this whole crappy situation.

He couldn’t say a word.

Levi continued to stare for a moment, then he lowered his head, damp forehead pressed into Eren’s shoulder.

“I can’t half-ass this,” he heard him mumble, one arm draped over Eren’s opposite shoulder. The man was gripping the back of his shirt, the fabric bunched up in what felt like a tight, desperate fist. “You’re not him. You can’t be, but—”

“We’re here!”

Eren quickly dropped his hands into his lap. He blamed reflex, but it wasn’t really the reason he let go of the key. It was selfish—so incredibly, douche-like selfish, but Eren didn’t want to hear that “but”. He didn’t want to know—

He didn’t want the _disappointment_.

Levi was still holding the key tightly, but he had stopped talking, leaning completely on Eren. He could feel his heavy breaths on his chest—could smell him and the sweat. The scent wasn’t exactly pleasant, but it was _familiar_ , and Eren distractedly bent his head down slightly, inhaling—

The side doors of the minivan slid open, and Mikasa peered inside.

“—. . .is he naked?”

Eren felt his face warm considerably, and he was glad it was already flushed because of the heat. “The clothes were too warm.”

“You sound guilty of something. _Incredibly_ guilty.”

“ _What_? Of _what_ , Mikasa? It’s not like we could’ve done anything!”

“ _Oh_ , stop it you two,” his mom insisted, peering into the car as well. “It was smart of Eren to do that, I figure. Can you carry him into the house?”

Eren nodded—then paused. “Is—is Dad home?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not. He left right after he talked to you on the phone—said he had some very important business and would be away at the office for a while.”

That was good and bad at the same time. It was good because he wouldn’t have to explain to his very serious dad why archaeology’s greatest find was in their home, and it was bad because then Eren couldn’t corner him for answers—what the hell was up with the key and the secrecy Smith was enforcing. 

It was also good because then his dad wasn’t there to question why he was carrying a basically naked man who was wearing his underwear inside.

“Okay, Eren, I want you to take him up to the bathroom and give him a cool washcloth. I need to change out of these funeral clothes, and then I’ll pour a glass of water for him.”

“Alright— _alright_ , Mom, I got it.”

She had the nerve to chuckle, and Eren quickly stomped up the stairs to the bathroom near his old room.

He didn’t remember how long it had been since he was in his old house. He recently bought an apartment so he wouldn’t have to, but he did miss the place. Everything inside was old—the design, the carpet, the furniture. There were cameos hanging on the walls and pieces of white furniture with pink flowers hand-painted on the edges. Maybe this had stimulated his career choice—he was basically surrounded by ancient history growing up.

Levi didn’t appreciate how quickly he had mounted the stairs, and Eren let out a muffled yelp when he felt the man pinch his back.

“— _sorry_ ,” he muttered, exhaling with relief when he was finally able to set Levi down on the tile floor of the bathroom.

He looked a little better, at least—he wasn’t sweating as much, but his skin was still flushed red, and he sagged against the wall of the bathtub. 

_It’s scary_.

Wetting a washcloth from one of the cabinets, Eren squatted down beside him. He hesitated, but finally pressed it against Levi’s forehead, enjoying immensely the pleased sound that passed through the man’s lips. It was a little bit too wet, and droplets of water dribbled from the cloth and down the other’s face. He _shivered_. Eren stared for a moment, captivated by the reaction. Sliding the washcloth down Levi’s face, he came to his neck, pressing the cloth into the warm skin. Drops of water burst from the edges and down the crevices of the man’s chest—he shivered again, and Eren found himself grinning just slightly.

Levi’s chest was a lot like his back—it was covered in scars and lingering indents, and Eren found himself desperately wanting to run his fingers over every single one.

He couldn’t, however. He _couldn’t_. He wasn’t “Nren”.

The thought stung, and he squeezed the washcloth harder than necessary, startled out of his thinking when Levi sucked in a sudden breath—his body had gone tense, and Eren realized it was because he had squeezed the majority of the water out all at once.

“Sorry,” he mumbled—then berated himself for apologizing when the guy couldn’t even _understand_ him.

 _It feels like I’m apologizing a lot lately. I need t’stop messing up_.

The journal was in the car, so there was no way to ask Levi if he felt any better with the stupid washcloth.

 _There is another way_.

Eren glanced down at the key for a moment. 

It was kind of scary—this wasn’t some fantasy world. Keys weren’t supposed to be able to break language barriers—there was no reason that this particular key should be so special, even it was from the Wall Age. A key was just a key that unlocked something. 

What was this one supposed to unlock?

The question seemed scarier.

 **It’s yours. Use it**.

 ** _Use it_**.

His fingers curled around the key. The sensation he had when he had first touched it wasn’t there, but there was still a buzz that seemed to shoot through his fingertips. Eren lifted it up off his chest, and motioned to Levi with a tilt of his head, extending the key as far as the cord would allow. Levi got the hint—got it incredibly fast, in fact, and before Eren could register it, Levi’s pale fingers were already around his.

The anticipation in the air was thick.

“ _Uhm_ —” Eren faltered, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “How—how are you feeling?”

There was a strange expression that overtook Levi’s face when he spoke—it was frighteningly similar to _relief_. 

“Like crap,” he answered after a moment. 

“Is the, uh—washcloth helping any?”

“Little bit. Your piss-poor wiping job isn’t.”

Eren’s brow twitched, and he made a face. “—whatever. I’m trying.”

There was a long stretch of silence before Levi spoke up.

“If you really need to take a shit, just say so.”

“ _What_? I don’t—why th’ _hell_ do you say that?”

“Your face. It looks like it.”

Eren stared at him for a long moment—it was hard to keep himself from grinning when he finally spoke again.

“You’re a _really_ awkward person, aren’t you?”

It was Levi’s turn to stare—he actually seemed somewhat startled, and Eren finally let his grin show when the man abruptly turned his head away.

“You _are_ , aren’t you?” Eren pressed, grin widening. “I couldn’t tell from the journal, but only an awkward person makes shit jokes, y’know,” he gushed—he could barely restrain it.

Levi shrugged, face still turned away. “What of it?”

“Well,” he faltered, brow furrowing. “It’s just nice to learn something about you like this, I guess.”

 _Wow. Think before you speak, Eren, because that sounded ridiculously embarrassing_.

He cleared his throat. 

“My mom’s going to bring up some water in a bit. I can bring you a clean shirt of mine t’wear.”

“Sounds good.”

When Eren came back with the shirt, Levi did look better—his skin wasn’t as red, and he was sitting up straighter instead of slouching against the tub. Eren managed to find one of his old shirts still in his room—it said “The Museum of the Wall Age” on the front, with a small diagram of the three different walls behind the letters. It was really his dad’s, but his dad had given it to him instead when he was younger. It was a size-up than he normally wore now, but Eren decided it was good enough as it would at least cover the man’s _ass_.

 _It’s kind of like a boyfriend shirt thing—except, we’re not dating. Right_.

Levi put the shirt on without question, not even glancing at the front. Eren was a tiny bit disappointed—he had hoped maybe Levi might ask about the design on the front, and then they could talk about it, but he only held his hand out expectantly for the key.

“So,” Levi started as soon as they were both holding it, “—this your house or something?”

“Yeah. It’s my parents’, really. I don’t live here anymore.”

“Why not?”

Eren tilted his head slightly. “Well, I have my own place, so there’s no reason to.”

Levi didn’t seem too interested in that topic, and it was changed instantly.

“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-three.”

Silence—Levi’s eyes flickered downward for a moment.

 _I wonder how old his “Nren” was_.

“So—you’re, what, in your thirties or something, right?”

A thin brow raised just slightly. 

“‘Thirties or something’,” he repeated slowly—then shrugged his shoulders. “Sure.”

Eren couldn’t help the exasperated sigh that whooshed past his lips. “That doesn’t even answer my question.”

“Use your brain. It does.”

“Not really.”

Levi didn’t bother to reply—he only shifted his hold on the key, maneuvering his fingers so they were between Eren’s. This seemed to satisfy the man considerably, and Eren realized he was waiting for nothing as a minute passed.

“. . .do you miss them?” Eren asked quietly—it was a _horrible_ question to break the silence with, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Levi didn’t look up from their hands, but he did answer. “Be specific. That’s a pretty long list.”

 _It probably is_.

“The guy that I look like,” Eren indicated after a moment—he assumed “Nren” was a guy, then, at least.

Levi’s shoulders went stiff instantly, and Eren regretted bringing it up, even though he had managed to guess the gender. It was eating at him, and hell, they had just come back from a _funeral_ —he was pretty sure he didn’t even have the right to ask something so personal, but it was hard to stop himself.

He leaned in a little closer when Levi didn’t say a word in response.

“Was that guy your lover?”

The man’s eyes closed for a second. He opened them again when he responded. 

“No. Too young for that.”

“For sex?”

“Yeah.”

“So—just your romantic partner, then?”

The other nodded slightly. The movement was jerky. “He loved me. Not sure why, but he did.”

Eren’s throat felt thick, but he pressed on. “. . .did you love him back?”

Their eyes met. Levi’s eyes were very _lonely_ , Eren decided.

“Yeah, I did,” was the response he finally received. Levi’s voice was flat, and he was looking down again, down at their hands.

“Did y’guys kiss?”

A harsh noise slipped past Levi’s lips. “That’s a creepy thing to ask.”

Eren flushed slightly. “ _Sorry_ —I just—am curious, is all.”

Levi didn’t look up, but after a bit of silence, he spoke up. “We didn’t. There wasn’t an opportunity. It was a shitty time.”

“But you guys told each other your feelings,” Eren started, brow furrowing in confusion. “—what was the point, then?”

Levi’s gaze flickered up to him. “Good question, kid. Don’t know. Maybe so there were no regrets.”

It was obvious Levi wasn’t telling him everything, but Eren knew better than to push it. He would, later—he wanted to know—he _had_ to.

He was already pushing it enough—Levi’s fingers were rubbing against his without leaving the key, and Eren thought it distinctly resembled a coping method than just plain touching. The other wasn’t looking up anymore, either, and he wished that he would—if he could see his eyes, maybe he could figure out what he was feeling—what he himself was feeling.

 _I want to kiss him again_.

Eren leaned in a bit closer, hand clenching around the key.

 _A little closer—just a small kiss_.

Their foreheads brushed together. Levi didn’t pull away like last time—he hadn’t looked up, but Eren was simply relieved he hadn’t moved away. Could Levi really be allowing him to kiss him?

 _I mean—even the guy he was in love with didn’t kiss him. Maybe I’ll be his first kiss_. 

Eren wanted to be.

Armin often said he was too impulsive. Eren had to agree, in all honesty. There were plenty instances in his life that proved the fact, but it was still only in the back of his mind—the realization that he really needed to give more thought to his actions before leaping in. Mom would always tell him to “look before he leaped”, even in high school, and Eren had told her that he was too old for nursery-level shrink talk.

This was one of those instances. He knew it, even when Levi’s head lifted slightly, angling a bit so their lips could fit together without any trouble.

Levi’s lips were small and warm—Eren felt like he could devour them with his own way too easily, but he didn’t, squeezing his eyes shut. It wasn’t heavy like in the movies, he noted. He had kissed before, knew how it worked, but his partners always seemed like they were trying too hard for that _Hollywood_ kiss.

His kiss was incredibly intimate compared to anything Eren experienced. It was almost a little awkward with how stiffly the man had his head angled, and Eren lifted his free hand to cradle a side of the other’s cheek, the pads of his fingers brushing the tips of the hairs of Levi’s undercut. Their lips vibrated slightly when the man made a _small_ noise in response, and Eren felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest.

 _I kind’a think I love him_.

“Eren!”

 _Not now, Mom_.

“ _Eren_! Oh, dear god—”

He could hear her stomping up the stairs—she only stomped up the stairs when there was something seriously wrong, and although it was painful, Eren pulled away—definitely _not_ missing Levi’s cheeks were slightly red. He scrambled up before his mom could burst into the bathroom, stepping half outside the door. His mom was at the top of the stairs, face pale and out of breath.

“Mom?” Eren ventured cautiously. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s the Leonhardt’s baby, _Annie_ —she’s _gone_!”


End file.
